Meet My Muggle
by Oasis Blackmore
Summary: Tom Nielsen, a gifted muggle, and Hermione Granger, an intelligent witch, have been best friends since they were six, but will Hermione's other best friends, Harry Potter and, more distressingly, Ron Weasley, be able to accept Tom, quirks, flaws and all?
1. Forced Accompaniment

**A/N: Well, chapter one of a new story. Please R&R.**

**Meet My Muggle**

**Chapter 1 **

**Forced Accompaniment**

Hermione Granger tucked her knees underneath her as she sat on her bed in her London flat. She was examining the shirt of her friend, Tom Nielsen.

Tom was a muggle. He had lived across the street from Hermione for years when they were children. Before Hermione had become a witch, she, as many young, magic folk did, had had strange abilities that had frightened her. She hadn't been able to tell her parents, so she had run to Tom. Tom had understood perfectly. He knew how it felt since he had begun having visions of the past, the future, and the present, proclaiming himself a psychic. When Hermione had received the letter of acceptance to Hogwarts, she had rushed to tell Tom. They hadn't communicated much during Hermione's years of magical training, but Hermione had come back and made a point to reestablish a relationship with her best friend of seven years and her parents.

Today was the second anniversary of her return, and Tom had celebrated it by falling asleep on her bed while they had been watching the news for any strange happenings. Though Hermione knew that Voldemort was long gone, she still made a point to watch for any events that might be significant.

The weather ended, and the news program was finished. Hermione clicked off the T.V. Tom stirred but didn't wake up. Hermione grinned and hopped off the bed to get snack. She walked down the hallway, wondering what food was in the fridge. She settled on an apple and pulled out her wand. "_Accio apple_," she muttered, and an apple came flying from the fridge and into her hand. She took a bite and headed back to her room.

When she returned, she found a pure white owl perched on Tom's chest. Tom was staring at it quite calmly, though looking mildly tense. "Hermione," he said, glancing at her, "there's an owl on my chest."

Hermione nodded, sticking the apple in her mouth. "Her name's Hedwig. She's Harry's owl," she explained, untying the letter from Hedwig's leg.

Hedwig hooted softly and ruffled her feathers.

Tom smiled and lifted a hand to stroke the owl's coat. Hedwig nipped his fingers softly, hooting again.

"She likes you," Hermione said, sitting on the bed, reading the letter.

"That's a relief. What does the letter say?"

"They want me to come stay with them at-" Hermione tried to say "Grimmauld Place", but she couldn't get the words out. "They must not have taken that part of the charm off," she muttered instead, "Anyway, it's Harry's house. He inherited it from his godfather. He and Ron are staying there. They want me to come and stay with them for a short while."

"You're going to leave me all alone?" Tom whined jokingly.

Hermione pondered this seriously. "Maybe you could come with me," she suggested.

"Oh, I wouldn't want to intrude-"

"No, really, it wouldn't be an issue, or an intrusion, and you _have_ been talking about how you'd like to meet more people of the magical sort. I'll just send a reply telling Harry that I'm bringing you with me."

"Oh, you don't have to do that-"

"Nonsense!" Hermione interrupted, "Now, I'm compelled."

Tom watched in horror as the white owl flew away with Hermione's reply. What was in store for him? He was, after all, just a defenseless muggle.

**A/N: Did you like it, and shall I continue? Please review telling me what you think.**


	2. Just Like Old Times

**A/N: Well, by unanimous request, I have decided to post the next chapter. It's getting really hard for me to focus on one thing at a time since I have so many little plot bunnies hopping around in my mind. ARGH! It drives me nuts! I have decided to start several stories, and I'm finally thinking about continuing _The Little White Room_. I've also been pondering the sequel to _As Clear as Mud_. _It Matters_ isn't going very well, so if you're interested in that story, don't expect more too soon. Anyway, here is chapter 2. Please R&R.**

**Chapter 2**

**Just Like Old Times**

Harry heard the knocks on the door at the same time as Ron, but he figured that Ron might as well get the door since he had already sprinted halfway there by the second knock. He opened the door, grinning eagerly. Hermione was standing there, grinning, too, but not at him. She was looking at a young man of small proportions, who was dragging a trunk full of Hermione's things away from the car. By the looks of it, he was a muggle.

"Finally decide that rights of lower class beings were pointless?" Ron asked in a low voice.

The man looked up, his light brown hair hanging in his face. "Hermione, couldn't you just . . . magic this thing into the house?" he asked, panting for air.

"Oh, right," Hermione said, laughing. She waved her wand, and the trunk flew into the house.

The man stared in awe. "Still haven't gotten used to that," he said, snapping out of his trance and heading back to the car for his suitcase.

Hermione looked at Ron. "Where's Harry?" she asked, peering around him into the house.

Ron's face fell. "Hello to you too," he muttered, "He's inside. We were reading when you arrived."

"Reading. I'm impressed," Hermione said.

Ron didn't reply. The man was walking up to the front door, a muggle bag in his left hand. He held out the right. "Tom Nielsen," he said, smiling nervously.

"Ron Weasley," Ron replied, shaking Tom's hand roughly.

Harry came to the door behind Ron. "Hermione!" he exclaimed and moved around Ron to give Hermione a warm hug, "How've you been?" he asked, stepping back.

"Great. You?"

"Same as always. You know, stalkers, fan mail, things like that," Harry paused and glanced at Tom, "Is this your friend?"

"Oh, yes!" Hermione said, "Tom, this is Harry Potter. Harry, this is Tom Nielsen."

Harry grinned. "Muggle?" he asked Tom.

Tom's face remained blank for a second before the uncommon word registered. "Oh, right. I'm not magic," he replied.

Harry grinned wider. "Come on in," he said, ushering everyone inside.

Hermione looked around at the no longer dismal look of the house. "I love what you've done with this house."

"I couldn't live in the Black shadow forever, of course," Harry said. He snapped his fingers, and Kreacher appeared in front of him, muttering something about hate and loathing.

Tom, who had never, of course, seen a house-elf before, recoiled. "What is that?" he asked, gaping at the ugly creature.

"It's a house-elf," Hermione said, sparing Kreacher a piteous look.

"It doesn't look like an elf," Tom said. The only perceptions he had of elves were the cute, giggling elves of the North Pole and the tall, lovely elves of J.R.R. Tolkien's Lord of the Rings, a favorite bookseries of his.

"Of course it does," Ron spat, "This one is one of the ugliest I've seen so far though. He's not very helpful either."

Hermione glared at him. "You know that house-elves are meant to be free, Ronald. Don't go on acting like their enslavement isn't wrong."

"It's not! Everyone else does it!"

"And that makes it right?" Hermione asked, raising her voice.

"Five minutes in each other's company and you two can't keep the peace," Harry said, turning away from the spot where Kreacher had been before he had disappeared again. "You'll have to excuse them, Tom. You and I are the only sane ones around if we've got these two with us."

"She's going on about _spew_ again, Harry. I had to say _something_!" Ron said.

"You're such a prat," Hermione scoffed.

Tom was watching his friend and Ron with interest. Whether they were really friends or were forced to stay together only for Harry's sake, he truly couldn't tell.

Harry put a stern hand on Ron's shoulder, leading him out of the room. "Excuse us," he called from the hallway. "What is your problem?" he hissed quietly.

"I don't have a problem," Ron said indignantly.

"You jump up right when Hermione knocks on the door, and five minutes into seeing her, you're already yelling at her. I'd call that a problem."

"She started it."

"I don't care who started it. _I'm_ ending it. Knock it off," Harry said angrily and left Ron in the hallway.

Harry rejoined Hermione and Tom to see them talking somewhat merrily to Kreacher, who had reappeared with a tray of tea.

"Trying to un-brainwash my elf, Mione?" Harry asked, laughing.

Hermione smiled. "No. Actually, I was just introducing him to Tom. He doesn't like me though, you know, since I'm muggle-born, and he absolutely _hates_ Tom."

Tom was glowering at Kreacher, who was bellowing phrases such as, "Never in all of Kreacher's days has a _muggle_ been allowed into this house! Kreacher knowed his half-blood master would ruin us! Kreacher knowed it!" and "A filthy muggle in this house? How will Kreacher ever clean up after it?" and "Kreacher's mistress would be very disappointed."

Harry snatched the tea tray from the yelling elf and hollered over its voice. "TAKE TOM'S BAGS UP TO THE SPARE BEDROOM ON THE THIRD FLOOR, AND COME BACK DOWN FOR MORE ORDERS WHEN YOU'RE DONE! DON'T STEAL ANYTHING FROM TOM'S BAGS. DON'T LOOK IN TOM'S BAGS. ALL YOU MAY DO WITH TOM'S BAGS IS SET THEM IN THE ROOM. THEN YOU HAVE TO LEAVE THE ROOM AND COME BACK DOWNSTAIRS. WHEN YOU GET DOWNSTAIRS, REPORT TO ME IMMEDIATELY. YOU MAY NOT DILLY DALLY."

Kreacher gave Harry a look of the greatest contempt before he grabbed Tom's luggage and disappeared.

"Just like old times, eh?" Harry said to Hermione hoarsely, "Annoying house-elves and rows between you and Ron."

"The second part I could live without," Hermione said, crossing her arms.

"I know you could. Hopefully both of you cancontrol your tempers for a while."

Hermione huffed.

Ron came out of the hallway looking downtrodden.

"Off to the living area then!" Harry said. Tom got the feeling that he was enjoying being a host.

**A/N: A bit longer than my short, first chapter, but not too long. I hope you enjoyed it. Please review.**


	3. Emotionally Unchanging

**A/N: Oh! The lot of you are so kind! Thanks oodles for reviewing! Anyway, here's chapter three. Please R&R.**

**Chapter 3**

**Emotionally Unchanging**

Tom and Harry sat down in the two chairs, and Ron and Hermione were forced to sit on the quaint love seat. Ron tried his best to sit as far away from her as possible.

"So," Harry said to Hermione, handing everyone a cup of tea, "How are your parents?"

"Oh, they're fine. Dentist business is flourishing; with all the sweets children consume these days, fillings have become rather popular."

"Dentistry has got to be one of the most boring jobs," Tom said.

"Nothing like being a lawyer, I suppose," Harry said.

"Hermione told you I'm in law school then?"

"Yes. She didn't say much, but she mentioned that you're a muggle and things like that."

"How does it feel?" Ron asked.

"Pardon?"

"Being a muggle, I mean. Does it feel a certain way?"

Tom chuckled. "I should be asking you the same question. I'm not the one who's got special powers," he said, though it was a partial lie. No one but Hermione knew about his visions anyway, so he figured it was okay.

"Everyone has some sort of power," Harry said, "even if they're not magic. Maybe yours is the power of . . . justice."

"No, I doubt that. I hate law school. I hate law. It's all so pointless. I mean, we install these rules to keep people from doing bad things, but they do them anyway. I don't see how people can consider the system even halfway adequate. It's far from that."

"But the people that do bad things are punished for doing them," Harry said.

Tom replied with a sensible answer, and he and Harry had soon entered a debate on the adequacy of law.

Hermione glanced at Ron. "How've you been?" she asked quietly.

"I'm fine. I don't get fan mail or anything, and my job at the Ministry blows. I guess all I've been looking forward to all summer is seeing you," he said. He turned red slightly, not having meant to say what he had.

Hermione's cheeks went pink. "Well, it has been a long time. I'd almost forgotten what you looked like. Of course, I have pictures, but you've changed a lot since they were taken."

In fact, Ron had changed very much. His hair was longer, and he had grown about an inch and a half. His eyes had depths that they hadn't had the last time Hermione had seen him.

"You've changed a lot too," Ron murmured.

This, too, was very true. Hermione's hair had become much less bushy in the past few years, and she had become womanlier.

Hermione looked away, smiling slightly.

"Do you believe in the death penalty?" Tom asked.

"Of course," Harry said, "If someone kills people, they should be punished in the most severe way possible. Death is one of the best ways to go in muggle societies. Before Voldemort-Hermione told you about him?" Tom nodded. "Before Voldemort came back to power, we had the most severe punishment in the history of punishments. It was a prison called Azkaban. There, dementors, soul-sucking, happiness-stealing wraiths, stole every ounce of happiness from its prisoners. Of course, the prison had to be shut down because the dementors joined Voldemort. It was a very severe punishment just to have to live there, but then, there was the Dementor's Kiss. A dementor would suck out your very soul, leaving you nothing but a body."

"You're still alive?" Tom asked, horrified.

"Unfortunately, yes. I knew someone who almost had to go through that . . ."

"You knew a murderer?"

"He was innocent," Harry said, "A rat, _Ron's_ rat to be exact, killed the people, who were thought to have been killed by my . . . my godfather."

Tom took a hasty look around the room, Hermione having told him that this had been Harry's godfather's house. "A rat killed everyone?"

Ron stepped into the conversation. "He wasn't _really_ a rat. He was an animagus."

"An ani_what_us?"

"Animagus, a witch or wizard that can transform her or himself into and animal," Hermione explained, taking a sip of her tea.

"O-Oh," Tom said, "This is really overwhelming . . . If I hadn't met Hermione I never would have known about . . . any of it. Just thinking about all of this going on without muggles-I mean, people that can't do magic-knowing. How do you manage it?"

"We modify memories," Ron, who worked in the Muggle Liaison Office, said.

"You what?" Tom said weakly. He was feeling rather faint due to the sudden realization of how many muggles must have had their memories . . . modified, whatever that meant.

"We modify their memories," Ron repeated, "Then of course, in some areas, we have to put muggle-repelling charms all over the place. We're just protecting you, of course," he added, noting the look of discontentment on Tom's face.

"Fr-from what?"

"Why, from _us_! Well, us and dragons, sphinxes, hippogriffs, and loads of other magical creatures. Wouldn't want you muggles getting attacked or anything!"

Tom took a quick gulp of his tea. "Well, it's nice to know that you aren't just killing us off."

"Well, technically, You-Know-Who tried that, but most of us thought it was wrong and corrected the problem," Ron said reasonably.

Hermione glared at him. "Ron, stop tormenting him. Besides, Voldemort-Oh, quit being such a prat-tried to kill nearly everyone who wasn't at _least_ half-blood, not just muggles. You should know that."

Tom was taking large drinks of his tea, breathing rapidly, and looking around the room, as if searching for an escape.

"Where is that elf?" Harry asked suddenly.

Kreacher was standing next to Tom's chair, as it turned out, though he hadn't said or done anything to make his arrival known. "Kreacher is right here, _master_," he said when Harry spotted him.

"Well, come here," Kreacher immediately sprang to the task, though he didn't look at all willing to do so. "I need you to clean up the kitchen. We're going to have to eat there later. Don't poison any of the food or drinks in the fridge, cupboard, or anywhere else. Don't do anything to anything that might harm or kill one of us."

Kreacher gave Harry a glare and ran into the kitchen.

"Why do you have to tell him not to poison us or steal things from my bags?" Tom asked.

"He hates me," Harry said, "He would much rather work for a woman who's long dead."

"He doesn't know that she's dead," Ron said.

"True," Harry said thoughtfully.

Tom was feeling very uncomfortable with this situation; there was a psychotic house-elf; Ron and Hermione weren't really getting along; and Ron didn't seem to like him very much. He felt rather like an unwanted guest in this house. He took another gulp of his tea, downing the last of the cup's contents.

"Maybe I should invite some of the others. You know, Ginny, Luna, Neville, Fred and George maybe," Harry pondered aloud.

Hermione smiled. "I would like that, actually. I haven't seen them all in ages."

Harry sprang up. "I guess I'm off to owl them then," he said cheerily, "Would you like to learn how to use an owl, Tom?"

Tom was hesitant to go, but Hermione urged him on, smiling. "Don't worry about me. I'll catch up with Ron while you're gone," she said.

Tom walked out of the room, glancing back at Hermione and Ron as he went.

Ron looked at Hermione. "Where'd you meet him?" he asked.

"He's lived across the street from my parents' house for years now. His mum and dad passed on a while back. Car accident, I think. Anyway, we were best friends as little kids . . . He's a really great guy. Very understanding, and kind . . . He's really helpful too-"

"Stop before I vomit," Ron interrupted, glaring into his cup of tea.

"What?" Hermione asked, feeling rather insulted at Ron's sudden outburst.

"You're pining over the guy, for cripe's sake! Spare me, please."

Hermione glared at Ron. "How can you be so thick? You were the one that asked about him-"

"I didn't expect you to start going on and on about how perfect he is!" Ron said, raising his voice.

"I wasn't going on and on," Hermione replied coldly, "I was naming some of Tom's characteristics. He's a great person to be around, which is more than I can say for you."

"Why don't you just go marry the guy," Ron spat.

Hermione stood up. "I suppose I can't have any friends other than you and Harry? Just because your social life is limited to interacting with the same people every day without ever meeting anyone new or catching up with old friends does _not_ mean that my life has to be that way. Get a clue, Ronald. Tom and I are just friends, and if you make a comment like that one more time, I swear I'll-"

"What? What do you swear you'll do? Throw a _book_ at me?" Ron asked angrily, standing up so that he loomed over Hermione.

Hermione shook her head, moving past Ron and towards the doorway Harry and Tom had disappeared through. "I can't believe you sometimes. It's amazing how you've _never_ changed emotionally. You've still got the heart of a block of ice and the depth of a teaspoon. I don't know why I bother even _talking_ to you. You always end up blowing your top anyway." With that, she left the room, leaving Ron to sulk in his anger.

**A/N: Too much fighting . . . IT GETS NOTHING DONE, PEOPLE! NOTHING! Whoo . . . anyway, I have a few questions/comments to reply to, or one rather, since the others will be answered/explained in the following chapters. **

**Yes, Tom is very calm, but he's _kind of _used to all the crazy, magical stuff because he's been friends with Hermione all these years. Of course, the past two years has gotten him used to it the most since he and Hermione sort of lost touch during her Hogwarts years. Plus, Tom is a calm guy by nature. Note how he didn't freak out when an owl landed on him and things like that. **

**Thanks for all your reviews, everyone. Next chapter will be up promptly.**


	4. The Workaholic

**A/N: I don't know how I'm keeping up with all of my stories. Please R&R. Thanks to all who have been reviewing. I luv the lot of you! **

**Chapter 4**

**The Workaholic**

Ginny Weasley entered Grimmauld Place, squealing happily as she spotted Hermione. "Oh, Hermione! When I heard you were staying here, I hopped on a broom and flew straight over! It seems like it's been _forever_! How've you been?" she asked, hugging Hermione lightly.

"Oh, same as always. How have _you_ been? I heard that you broke up with what's-his-name. Trust me, he wasn't worth it. He seemed like a real git right off."

Ginny smiled. "Thanks, but I'm over it. I'm with Colin Creevey now."

"Colin? Colin that was obsessed with Harry in his first year, Colin?"

Ginny nodded, grinning.

Tom walked into the room, talking animatedly with Harry about laws in the wizarding world. He spotted Ginny and trailed off in mid sentence. Harry followed his gaze. "That's Ginny, Ron's sister," he said.

"Explains the hair," Tom muttered.

Harry gave him a concerned look. "I'll . . . introduce you if you want," he suggested.

Tom glanced at him. "Um, thanks."

"Ginny," Harry called, "I didn't expect you so soon. I guess you were serious when you said you just had to hop on a broom and get over here, eh?"

Ginny laughed. "Yes, I was. Who's this?" she asked, looking questioningly at Tom, who was clearly a muggle.

"Tom Nielsen, Mione's friend," Harry said.

Ginny walked over to Tom and held out her hand. "Nice to meet you. I'm Ginny Weasley," she said.

"You're Ron's sister?" Tom asked, though he already knew the answer.

"Oh, yes, but please don't tell everyone that. I'm trying desperately to pretend that I don't, in any way, know Ron, especially after the thing with the eggs at the restaurant in Wales."

"The thing with the eggs at the restaurant in Wales?" Tom asked, grinning.

"Don't tell me the boys haven't told you! Well . . ." Ginny went on to explain the thing with the eggs at the restaurant in Wales.

Harry walked up to Hermione, smiling. "I think she likes him," he murmured, leading her out of the room.

"He's giving her that look . . . Do you think they make a good couple?" Hermione asked.

Harry shrugged. "What would I know? I haven't been able to hold a relationship with a girl for more than a few months since I got my first girlfriend, remember?"

Hermione laughed. "Yes, I remember," she said, smiling, "Doesn't matter anyway. Ginny says she's with Colin Creevey."

"_Colin Creevey_?" Harry asked, cracking up.

"Yes. They do have a lot in common-or _used_ to, anyway," Hermione said.

"I suppose you're right . . . Would you happen to know where Ron ran off to?" Harry asked.

Hermione shrugged.

There was a loud knock at the front door. It almost sounded like someone had _fallen_ against it.

"I'll get it," Hermione offered and hurried off. She opened the door and saw Neville standing on the porch, dusting himself off and straightening his robes. "Neville!" Hermione exclaimed.

"Hermione, it's been quite a while! It's great to see you!" Neville replied, holding out a hand and shaking Hermione's wholeheartedly. "Luna should be arriving soon," he added, "She had me come early so she could get done packing. Harry invited us to stay."

"Oh, that's right! You and Luna-"

"Are engaged. It's wonderful living with seer. Hardly ever get taken off guard. She's always warning me about things, you know."

"Oh, yes," Hermione said. She had never liked the idea of seers, even though Trelawney, the former divination teacher at Hogwarts, had predicted the future most accurately, though she, herself, was unaware that she could do so. "Divination is a very handy trick," she muttered, "Oh, where are my manners? Come in. Ginny, Harry, and Tom are inside."

"Tom?" Neville asked, tripping over the threshold.

Hermione closed the door. "He's a muggle friend of mine," she said, leading Neville into the living area.

Tom, Ginny, and Harry were sitting in the chairs, talking about the thing with the eggs at the restaurant in Wales.

"Neville!" Ginny said, "You were there! Sit down and tell Tom what happened to you at the restaurant in Wales!"

Neville turned red. "Well, it's not a very pleasant story," he said.

"I already told him what happened to me, and my experience was much worse than yours, you know."

"Oh, all right. The eggs that we were supping on were, as it turned out, alive! They weren't eggs at all! So, they sort of attacked us. Ron got the worst of it; they dragged him away by the ankles. He was rather panicky, screaming and all. Anyway, some of them jumped on top of my head and began yanking at my hair; I had few bald patches before everything was through," Neville shuddered. "Harry saved the lot of us; used a freezing charm on them, and we were able to get them off us. A most unpleasant experience, it was."

Tom was smiling, though he looked rather flustered by the thought of live eggs. "So . . . what were the eggs, if not actual eggs?"

"Malaysian Sunny Siders," Hermione said. She hadn't been at the restaurant to see the Malaysian Sunny Siders, but she had heard enough to know exactly what they could be classified as. "They look like eggs, but they're actually small, intelligent beings. They use their intelligence to attack people. I believe they feed off of a chemical that humans release during strong periods of shock."

"The weirdest things, they are," Neville commented.

Ron apparated into the room at that moment, wearing his Ministry robes. He grabbed his hat off the hat rack.

"Ron," Harry said, looking questioningly at him, "What are you doing?"

"Going off to work," Ron said.

"What? I thought you took the week off."

"Er-I did. But I decided it might be better if I wasn't around," Ron said, inching toward the front door.

"Oh, no you don't," Harry said, standing up, "Doris told me not to let you go back until the week was up. You know they all want you to take a break. You haven't had a vacation the entire time you've worked at the Ministry."

"But, Harry, I-"

Harry disappeared for a moment but appeared right next to Ron in the next, seizing him. "Don't make this harder than it has to be, mate," he grunted as Ron began struggling against him.

They tussled into the foyer, where Harry got Ron in a headlock. "Trying to get away from her?" he asked in a low whisper.

"No, I just-"

"After nagging me all summer about sending her an owl, you're not going to just disappear, are you?"

Ron sighed and relaxed. "Harry, she's not-"

"If she's angry with you, you will spend this time making up with her, not working. I want you to change out of those robes and come join the rest of us in the living area."

"But, Harry-"

"Ron, you'd better do as I say."

"Harry, do I-"

"_Now_!"

Harry let Ron out of the headlock, and the latter walked dejectedly to his room, hanging his head as he went.

Ginny laughed at his depressed appearance as he passed the living area to hang his hat back where it belonged. "Harry convinced you to stay away from your haven, Ron?" she asked, laughing.

Ron didn't reply.

Hermione watched him leave. Somehow, she felt his urge to leave had nothing to do with being a workaholic.

**A/N: Did you hate it? Please review and voice your opinions! **


	5. Gags

**A/N: I'm back! Muah ha! I'm SO sorry. I got the feeling that I should be working on original stories one day--probably the day my mom kept pressuring me to get something published. I apologize greatly. Fortunately, my sudden orignalness drive proved to have a few positive results, most of which revolved around fanfiction ideas. BUT, that's beside the point. I'm back, and I've got a nice, little chapter for you to read. Now, about the chapter; it took me forever to decide if I wanted to post this plot-altering scenario and completely destroy the lives of some of our wonderful characters, but I decided, sure, why not? So . . .yeah . . . Well, I'd better let you get on with reading this before you lose interest. Enjoy, and please review. **

**Chapter 5**

**Gags**

The group of witches and wizards taught Tom almost everything there was to know about wizardry before the night was up. Things sped up a bit when Luna rapped on the door. She scared Tom more than any of the others had, what with her huge eyes and all. She was not hesitant to predict his future-not that he didn't already know it-and he instantly warmed up to her, having something major in common. The others had just finished showing him a patronus when none other than Fred and George popped into the room.

"Hermione!" one twin exclaimed.

"Um . . . hello!" Hermione greeted him, not sure which twin he was.

"Long time-"

"No see-"

"Eh?"

Hermione nodded. She was beginning to think, and worry, about what the twins might do-or _attempt_ to do-to Tom; they had never been the most muggle-safe wizards in the land.

Fred or George glanced at the group in the living room. "Ronnie, Ginny, Harry, Neville, and Loony. All here. Now who's this bugger?" he asked, cocking his head at Tom.

"This is my friend, Tom," Hermione said, smiling.

Tom nodded. "Hello."

The twins held out their hands at the same time. "Pleasure to make your acquaintance," they said in unison.

Tom shook both of their hands. "Your names?" he asked.

"Fred and George," Fred and George said unanimously.

Ginny glared at them. "I'm sure he was asking which one of you is which," she said coolly.

"Fred," said one.

"George," said the other.

Tom nodded.

The grandfather clock in the hallway chimed loudly.

"Midnight!" Fred exclaimed.

"We _love_ midnight," George said, glancing at Tom.

Hermione saw the furtive glance and looked at George warningly.

Fred drew a bag out of his coat pocket. "Here-"

"Is a bag."

"A bag-"

"Of gags."

"Meaning-"

"That there are gags-"

"In this bag."

"Gags in a bag," George finished, grinning.

The group of witches and wizards, all except Hermione, looked eager to see what Fred and George had dished up this time around. Tom, however, wasn't sure what type of jokes wizarding folk enjoyed and wasn't feeling very comfortable with the fact that he was an ignorant muggle.

Fred drew an item out of the bag. It looked like an ordinary, chocolate bar, but everyone, except Tom, of course, knew better.

"Do try it, Todd," George said, grinning even wider.

"It's Tom," Tom said, hesitantly holding out his hand for the "candy".

"Tom, don't," Hermione said urgently.

Tom looked at her and then looked at the twins, who nodded encouragingly. He looked back at Hermione. "What harm can one bite do?" he asked, taking off the wrapper.

"That's the spirit, old boy!" Fred said happily as Tom took a bite of the chocolate. He chewed for a moment then stopped, his eyes growing wide. He opened up his mouth, revealing the bottom of his tongue, the top of which was stuck to the roof of his mouth.

Fred and George cracked up, and everyone but Hermione couldn't help but grin.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Just take the charm off," she sighed.

Fred muttered the counter-jinx and Tom's tongue returned to normal.

Hermione sat up straighter, and everyone could tell she was going into "lecture mode".

"Don't say it, Hermione," Ron interrupted as she opened her mouth to speak.

"It was just a bit of fun, Mione," Harry said.

"You know exactly why I don't like those spells, and you shouldn't either!" Hermione said, wagging a finger at Harry.

"Hermione, I _know_," Harry said, sighing.

"This is going to be a good seller when we put it on the shelves," Fred said matter-of-factly, shaking the bar of chocolate Tom had taken a bite of.

Hermione looked ready to say something again when Tom spoke up. "Honestly, Hermione, lighten up."

Hermione's eyes fell upon him, searching for a hint of insincerity, but Tom was completely serious. She sighed. "All right," she murmured, "but just for tonight. After that, I will make a point of lecturing you two," she looked at the twins, "every chance I get."

Ron gaped at her. If _he_ had told Hermione to lighten up, she would have bitten his head off! Why was it different with this Tom guy?

Tom smiled. "That was actually sort of fun," he said.

Fred and George grinned twin grins of evil. "Then you'll definitely enjoy the other products we have in our bag," they said unanimously, for their brains had entered the same train of thought. _Test subject._

Following Hermione's promise to lighten up, Tom endured four strange spells, tried one "special" cream, and ate two odd foods.

After the third spell, Hermione stood abruptly and left the room, calling over her shoulder that they could continue.

Ron watched her go into the kitchen, and his gaze swooped to Harry's, which told him to follow her. He hesitantly obeyed, receiving looks from everyone in the room, except Tom, who had been temporarily blinded by the spell that had most recently been shot at him.

Hermione was sitting in a kitchen chair, looking exhausted and strained with her elbows resting on the table and her hands massaging her temples.

"Hermione," Ron called softly.

Hermione opened her eyes. She saw him, and her eyes closed again in an almost dismissive manner.

"Hermione, I know you're angry with me, and I'm sorry we had to start fighting right off."

Hermione sighed. "Ron, I don't want to talk about this."

"We _need_ to talk about it, Hermione," Ron said quietly.

"Really, Ron, I just want to forget the past. Seeing you is just bringing it all back, but I don't want to relive any of it."

"Hermione-"

Hermione looked up sharply. "Can't you take a hint, Ron? I don't want to talk right now. Sod the bloody hell off!" she yelled and disapparated out of the room.

Ron leaned over the table, the palms of his hands supporting his weight. Hermione obviously didn't understand how much he wanted to forget everything that had happened as well. Not talking about it had gotten him nowhere, though, and if she wasn't going to help willingly, he was going to have to find a way to force her.

Tom entered the room. He had heard Hermione yelling and wanted to check on her. "Where's Hermione?" he asked when he didn't see any sign that his best friend had been in the room.

Ron pointed to the ceiling without looking at Tom, and Tom assumed that that meant Hermione had gone upstairs. He took his leave, made his way up the flight of steps, and checked every room for Hermione.

He found her on the second floor in a room of pale blue. "Hermione," he said softly, walking to where she sat on the bed, crying.

"Tom," Hermione said, and she leapt up and flew into Tom's arms, sobbing inconsolably.

Ron had followed Tom up the stairs stealthily. He watched through the crack between the doorway and the door. His blood boiled as Tom's arms wrapped around Hermione.

"What's wrong?" Tom asked, easing Hermione onto the bed and holding her.

Ron couldn't quite make out what Hermione said, but heard the words "get away", "can't stand", and "past".

"It's all right," Tom said as Hermione wept into his shirt. He looked down at her, frowning. He knew what she was going to do before she did it, but he was still vaguely shocked when her lips met his. She loved him as a friend. Only as a friend. This gesture, had anyone else seen it, would have been thought a drastic act for friends, but he knew that his relationship with Hermione was different from other peoples' friendships. It was more platonic than anything, yet it was also very intimate and deep. He couldn't explain it had anyone asked him.

Ron staggered away from the door, pressing himself against the opposite wall as he gagged silently. He couldn't breathe. He had known there was something going on between Tom and Hermione. He had known.

Hermione hugged Tom tighter. "You're a great friend, Tom," she murmured.

Tom smiled. "It's what I'm here for," he muttered.

Hermione yawned, and Tom could tell she was exhausted from the day's events. "You should get some sleep," he whispered, pulling away to stand and leave.

"Don't leave me!" Hermione exclaimed, looking desperately into Tom's eyes.

Tom sat down on the bed again, and Hermione took in his warm smile. Tom was one of the greatest people she had ever met. He was truly kind and was willing to do anything for people he cared about. Harry was almost like him, but he couldn't be there as freely as Tom could, seeing as he had so many problems of his own. Ron could never be as good a friend as Tom. He wasn't that type of person. Yet Hermione felt herself drawn to him and couldn't ever bring herself to hate him.

Hermione was mildly ashamed that she compared her friends to Tom, but Tom was everything she would want in a best friend. He had always been everything she had wanted in all of her friends.

She lied back on the bed, closing her eyes. She felt Tom do the same next to her. "Thank you," she whispered before drifting into a content sleep.

Ron sat in the hallway, staring blankly at the door to Hermione's room. Why hadn't she ever noticed how he felt? Instead, she was pining over Tom, the perfectly perfect muggle. Ron shoved a shaking hand through his hair, letting out a breath of air. The room had gone silent, and Ron wondered what the pair was up to. He stood up and went the door. Peeking in, he saw both Tom and Hermione lying on the bed, Hermione with her eyes closed, Tom staring at the ceiling. Had Ron imagined what he had seen? No, surely not. It had been real, very real.

Ron resisted the urge to burst through the door and disturb the sense of romantic peace that, no doubt, lie beyond it and stormed to his room.

**A/N: I just realized what horrors I have brought into my story! gasp I'm terrible. Terribly terrible indeed. shakes head **

**Also, I am planning on removing two of my stories. One is "Sacrificing Bob", which, I recently found out, borders on stealing the idea of another writer. To get the same, but better, effect of my story, I suggest you read "L'Ã®le De MystÃ¨res" by** AshAnana**. It's a really good story, and I certainly wouldn't want to intrude. Plus,"Sacrificing Bob"is too OOC to be considered worth reading. I never liked how I wrote it. The second story I think I'm going to remove is "It Matters", which I originally meant to be a oneshot but, by unanimous vote, has turned into what, if I could come up with any ideas, would be a multi-chapter story. Besides, it's idiotic anyway. Perhaps, I shall write a new story with the Mirror of the Erised plot. Perhaps, not. Oh, I nearly forgot; I've begun writing a story to replace "Sacrificing Bob", and I'm pretty darn sure the idea is unused. I plan to post it before Christmas, if I get the motivation to type it up. Anyway, if you have any objections to my deleting those two stories, say so . . . yadda yadda yadda . . . But yea. I might post a new story right now, but I just can't decide. Please review. **

**Oasis**


	6. The First Flashback

**A/N: Yay! More posting from moi! I apologize for the delay. I was hesitant to post this chapter because it's so much different from the others, plotwise. Enjoy!**

**Chapter 6**

**The First Flashback**

"Run!" Harry yelled, "This is my battle! Go!"

Hermione hurried to where Ron was standing, refusing to move. "Ron, come on!" she hollered over the noise the violent wind was making, grabbing Ron's arm to try and pull him to safety.

"We can't leave Harry!" Ron bellowed.

"It's his battle, not ours! Let's go!" Hermione tugged violently at Ron's arm, but he didn't budge.

"I'm not leaving him, Hermione!"

Hermione let go of him. In her mind, she was marveling at his loyalty, the loyalty that was surfacing at the worst time it could. She would have jinxed him into moving had her wand not been lost during battle, but all she could do was say one thing as she stepped away from him. "Ron, I love you! Please trust me when I say that Harry will be fine without our help! We've done all we can do!" she cried, the tears that had been threatening to come leaking out of her eyes.

Ron turned to look at her. "You l-" He didn't get the chance to finish what was saying before a green flash struck him to the ground.

Harry had entered the final fight with Lord Voldemort at last. This mêlée would decide the fate of the wizards and, most likely, the muggles, too.

"RON!" Hermione screamed, rushing to Ron's limp body as her voice echoed off the cliff walls. She understood the urgency of the situation and began dragging Ron behind a boulder. She clutched his upper body to her, sobbing. She knew there was no hope. The killing curse did as its name depicted, always.

"I do love you, Ron," she whispered in a choked voice, "but nothing can save you now."

It seemed like hours before Harry began searching for his friends, but it was only ten or twenty minutes. He was weak from his fight, and he felt like half of what he had once been. Of course, he had vanquished the wizard who had given him most of his power, erasing any mark of his being.

He found Hermione behind a boulder with Ron. He sighed in relief, seeing that they were both intact, but the way Hermione stared at him helplessly, the way she clutched Ron with all her strength, and the way Ron's head lolled on his shoulders was definitely not consoling.

Hermione tried to say something, anything, but her mouth opened and all she managed to do was sob once again.

"Is he . . ." Harry asked, guilt filling him to his core. He should have been there to protect them. Why hadn't he done something to save Ron?

"Wouldn't leave you," Hermione muttered, "Killing c-curse."

Harry dropped to his knees. "He's dead."

-----

Tom and Hermione awoke at the same moment, both breathing hard with tears on their cheeks.

"Ron!" Hermione cried quietly, quickly accepting Tom's embrace.

"You had the dream again," Tom said after a while.

"I know," Hermione sniffled.

"I had it too."

Hermione looked up. "What?" she asked.

"You know that I have powers, Hermione. I don't know what happened this time, but I saw your dream."

Hermione noted, for the first time, the tears that had been on Tom's cheeks.

Tom looked thoughtful. "You never would tell me what you said to Ron that day," he murmured, gazing into her eyes, "Is that why . . ."

"Why what?" Hermione asked suspiciously.

"Why you've been treating him like a piece of dung from the moment we got here," Tom said gently.

Hermione was about to deny that claim lock, stock, and barrel, but she caught herself. "Not entirely," she muttered.

"Why don't you just tell him?" Tom asked, feeling slightly exasperated.

"I already did. You saw me do it," Hermione said defiantly. She hated this subject. She hated it almost as much as she hated reliving the death of the one boy she was in love with.

"And then he died. Yes, I remember. Did he forget then?"

Hermione stared hopelessly at the chest of her best friend. "No, he didn't . . . forget."

Tom gaped at her. "He asked you if it was true when he came to; didn't he?" he gasped.

Hermione nodded.

"You didn't tell him he imagined it!"

Hermione nodded again, looking away from Tom. "I never would have denied it if I hadn't known he didn't feel the same."

"And how did you know?" Tom asked. The situation was extremely intriguing to him, and he wasn't even trying to mask the interest on his face.

Hermione bit her lip. This was the part she hated the most. "I didn't."

Tom stared at his friend, taking in the information and analyzing it. He took Hermione's hand in his, trying to catch her averted gaze. "He just might, you know," he said quietly.

Hermione bit her lip and shook her head. "I know what you're trying to get me into, Tom. I'm not going to do it," she said, looking into Tom's eyes and spotting a familiar mischievous gleam in them. "If you tell him, I swear I'll hex you into a cockroach," she snapped.

Tom rolled his eyes at her playfully. "I'm not going to tell him," he said, "but I might do a bit of . . . hint-" Hermione smacked him in the back of the head. "All right, all right!" Tom exclaimed, holding up his arms to protect himself from another blow, "I won't say a word . . . Or hint!" he added when Hermione raised her hand again. "I swear, woman, you're bloody abusive!" he cried, laughing.

Hermione grinned and shoved him off the bed.

------

Harry heard a loud thump from the room above the kitchen, Hermione's room. He looked at Ron, who was drinking a cup of coffee with a look of revulsion plastered on his face.

"Ron," Harry said, "Why don't you leave that obviously disgusting drink down here and go look in on Hermione," he suggested.

Ron looked up, taking another gulp of coffee. "I'd really rather not," he grumbled.

Harry raised an eyebrow at him. "All right, mate. I'll go then," he said, shrugging. He walked out of the room, looking back to see Ron shaking his head with that same look of distaste.

He reached Hermione's door, not sure why he hadn't just apparated there instead of walking and was surprised to hear Hermione laughing from inside. He stared at the door in confusion. He raised his hand to knock and was just about to when the door opened. Tom stepped out of the room to see Harry's raised hand in his face. He stumbled backwards in surprise, clutching the doorknob for some sort of support.

Harry ogled at Hermione's muggle friend. "What were you doing in there?" he asked, frowning.

Tom looked at Harry who was filled with an obviously, overprotective misgiving. He winced. "I know what this looks like, Harry," he began, pressed up against the door he had already closed, "but I can assure you, it's not."

Harry narrowed his eyes. "Would Hermione tell me the same story?" he asked, putting a certain emphasis on the word, "story".

"Of course!" Tom exclaimed.

Harry thought he was telling the truth, but he didn't know Tom all that well. The look of fright on this muggle's face could have been the look he got when he was lying through his teeth. "I'm going in to see her," he said gravely.

Tom nodded, hastily stepping out of the way. Instead of running, as a guilty person surely would have, he stood in the hallway, waiting.

"Hermione," Harry snarled, knocking on the door, "I'm coming in."

Hermione was sitting on the tall bed, her feet dangling over the edge. "Morning, Harry," she muttered without looking up. Since she didn't do so, she was unaware that Harry's face was filled with thought and distrust.

"What was Tom doing in here?" he asked bluntly.

Hermione looked up, visibly offended. "Harry, never, in your house . . . I can't believe you would even _think_ that! Besides, I merely asked him to stay for comfort. After my chat with Ron last night, I needed a bit of that."

Harry was angry now. "Ron was being an ass again?" he asked.

"More or less, yes," Hermione muttered, "but isn't he always?" she asked. Her gaze drifted to Tom's, and she instantly felt guilty.

Harry nodded and went back to the reason he had been angry in the first place. "So you two weren't doing anything . . . unholy?" he asked.

"Unless you consider sharing one's problems with a friend unholy, no," Hermione replied curtly.

Harry looked in between Tom and Hermione again and then sighed, shoving a hand through his hair. "Sorry, Hermione. I should have trusted you. Either way," he said, looking at Tom, "we shouldn't tell Ron about this."

Tom raised his eyebrows. "We shouldn't?"

"He'd be furious, I'm sure," Harry explained.

"Would he?" Tom asked, letting out a few coughs, just for good hinting measure.

Hermione watched him with wide eyes. His coughs were noticeably forced, though she wasn't sure Harry understood, or cared for that matter. "Well, I just wanted to look in on you," he said innocently, "I heard a thump from downstairs, and I didn't know whether or not you had fallen or something. What happened, by the way?"

"I pushed Tom onto the floor," Hermione said, grinning.

"She was mistreating me!" Tom cried in a whiny voice.

Harry laughed and began to head out of the room. "Feel free to use the shower anytime," he called over his shoulder, shutting Hermione's door.

He and Tom headed downstairs to the kitchen.

"Good morning, Ron," Tom said cheerily.

"I fail to notice the good in it," Ron said, setting his cup on the table and leaving the room.

Tom looked at Harry for an explanation, but Harry shrugged and resumed his reading of the _Daily_ _Prophet_.

**A/N: Didja like it? Hopefully, we'll be seeing more of some subpairings in the next chappie. Please review!**


	7. Tension

**A/N: Who is the posting master? Yes, me. Well, no, maybe not, but I didn't wait weeks to post this chapter! Enjoy!**

**Chapter 7**

**Tension**

Hermione showered and headed down to the kitchen where she found almost everyone seated.

Harry stood up and got her a bowl of oatmeal, gesturing for her to sit down as she said her good mornings.

"How are you?" Hermione asked Luna, who looked pale and exhausted.

"She gets this way when there's a lot of tension in an area," Neville explained, rubbing Luna's back affectionately.

Hermione didn't look surprised, but she did seem a bit apprehensive. "So, er, where's Ron?" she asked quietly, avoiding Tom's gaze.

Harry shrugged. "Stormed off when Tom came down," he muttered.

"Oh."

"He's been rather on edge lately, hasn't he?" Luna stated, "Nearly knocked me over in the hall. Didn't apologize either," she added, mumbling more to herself than the others at the table.

"He _what_?" Harry asked, becoming angry, "He has no right to go about acting like he's the only person in this house," he began, starting on a rant.

"Harry," Hermione interrupted softly.

"What?" Harry spat.

"He's just-"

Harry cut her off. "Don't tell me that you're going to defend him after how he's been treating you since you arrived!"

"He hasn't really . . ." Hermione trailed off when she met Tom's eyes. Tom was giving her a look that made her want to box his ears. She looked into her porridge hurriedly. "He's always like this," she concluded.

"Well, he needs to get over it and start treating his friends better," Harry grumbled, ripping a piece of toast in half viciously.

Ron stood in the doorway unnoticed until that moment. He could have sworn that Hermione had been about to stand up for him, but thanks to a shared glance with Tom, the secret lover-boy, she hadn't said a word. Ron's hate for the muggle was growing with every passing second. "I don't need to get over anything," he growled as Harry spotted him.

Harry looked at Hermione, who mentally begged him not to start a scene, and his lips formed a thin line as he glared into his breakfast.

Ron seemed satisfied with no answer and situated himself at the table with his meal. He ate much as a normal person would, surprising Hermione when she snuck a surreptitious glance at him. Her eyes flicked to Tom, and she noted the look on his face, which told her that he had noticed her peek at Ron.

Ron noted how often her gaze caught Tom's, and he felt his temper rising.

It was like a blessed freedom when everyone finished and the tension was broken.

Luna seemed to be very ill, clutching onto Neville for support-not the smartest thing to do, what with Neville's uncanny knack for getting into physical accidents and all. Amazingly, they made it to the sitting room without breaking anyone or anything and sat down on the loveseat.

Hermione trailed after them with Tom at her heels.

Everyone had felt the burning energy that emanated from Ron and Harry. Hermione's strain was more uncomfortable and nervous than anything else. All the same, no one had wanted to be around Harry or Ron when Harry blew his top and Ron retaliated.

Harry began ushering dishes into the sink with his wand, turning on the faucet. "Ron," he began hotly, his teeth clenched, "I've already warned you-not once, but _twice_-about being a gentleman. I'm running out of warnings."

Ron let his bowl drop to the table with a thud. "If you had just let me leave in the first place-" he began.

Harry cut him short. "I told you to make up with her, _not_ sulk around trying to piss people off," he hissed, turning off the taps with an aggressive jerk of his wand.

"Harry, if you knew how I was feeling, you would be lecturing _her_, not me," Ron said angrily.

"She is our _guest_. I will remind you again that _you_ were the one who begged me to invite her over for a while. If you can't get along with her, why did you want to be in her company?" Harry asked irately.

"Because I-Because . . . Well, I don't know," Ron said, stumbling over his words.

"I think you _do_ know. You'd just like to keep it to yourself because you know what I'll say," Harry said, directing the bowls to the sink.

"Fine. Can I go now?" Ron asked. He didn't want this conversation to go any further.

"Fine," Harry said. How he had kept himself from yelling, he had no idea. After all, the entire situation was positively infuriating!

When Ron entered the living room, he took a seat as far away from Tom as he could muster. Sitting in an opposite hemisphere wouldn't have been far enough where he was concerned.

"Where do you suppose Ginny is?" Neville asked, trying to start conversation.

"Asleep," Ron said.

Harry entered the room, shoving his wand into his pocket. "Yea. Always has slept late, that one," he commented cheerily. "Anyone feel like waking her?" he asked.

Ron shook his head quickly, and the rest of the group followed suit, discerning that Ron would know best about the dangers of waking a sleeping Ginny.

Harry grimaced. "Right then. It's up to me." With that, he apparated out of the room and into the hallway in front of Ginny's door. He reached out and knocked the wood. "Ginny," he called.

There was no reply.

"Ginny?" he said a bit louder, repeating the knocks.

"Ginny, I'm coming in," he warned as he turned the handle of the door and pushed it open. In the room, there was nothing but an unmade, empty bed. "Ginny?" Harry queried, looking around.

The door creaked open. "Harry?" Ginny said from the doorway as she continued to towel dry her hair.

"There you are, Gin!" Harry said, stepping forward. "I was just looking for you!"

Ginny laughed. "Obviously," she stated.

Harry grinned. "Yea . . ."

There was an awkward pause.

Ginny looked around the room, still drying her hair.

Harry cleared his throat. "Um, everybody's waiting for you downstairs, so don't be long," he said, moving to exit the room. The space between the bed and the door was limited, so he was forced to squeeze past Ginny as he went. She smelled extremely fresh. Unfortunately, Harry had no desire to be thinking about how lovely she smelled. "Heh," he said as he got out in the hallway, "See you downstairs."

Ginny watched him walk down the hall before closing her door, shaking her head.

**A/N: I'm so excited for the next chapter! I really do hope you guys'll like it because I had THE BEST time writing it last night. Made myself cry, actually. I'll be posting it soon, after I've heard your reactions to this rather drab chappie . . . But anyway, please review.**


	8. Blame Games

**A/N: Yes! Chapter Eight has arrived! Do enjoy, dearest readers!**

**Chapter 8**

**Blame Games**

Harry shook himself to consciousness before he entered the living room once more. There was no way in Hell he was going to put himself through the trials of falling in love with Ginny again.** No. Way. In. Hell.** So he had better just forget how lovely her darkened red curls had looked against the smooth skin of her gently arched cheekbones. Or how her caramel brown eyes had lit up when she had smiled, turning his stomach into a gymnast on cocaine. He closed his eyes, leaning against the wall in agony.

He was doing it again.

For more than two years, he had been trying to convince himself that breaking up with Ginny for her safety had been a good idea, but somehow, the image of her tearstained cheeks at Dumbledore's funeral had always struck him as a slight inclination that it hadn't been the best concept to go along with.

But she had moved on! She had . . . Colin now . . . Colin Creevey. Harry shook his head. He couldn't honestly be _jealous_ of the aforementioned, could he? No, of course not. He was _not_ in love with Ginny anymore, and he had company. Yes, the company awaited him through the nearest door.

No sooner than Harry had walked into the room, he was hit with a wave of pure anxiety. It was horridly thick in the air, so thick, in fact, that Harry had half a mind to fill a jar full, just to prove a point.

He looked around to find that of the five previous occupants, only Ron, Tom, and Hermione remained.

And they were sitting in utterly apprehensive silence.

"Well now, where'd Luna and Neville run off to?" Harry queried, causing the rigid trio to jump in surprise.

Harry sent an accusing look to Ron, figuring that he was most likely the cause of the couple's absence.

"_What_?" Ron asked irritably. "I didn't do anything!"

"Neville took Luna out for a breath of fresh air," Hermione explained, stealing a glance at Ron, whose blazing eyes unexpectedly met hers and just as unexpectedly softened, if only for a moment. She looked away hastily, trying her best to keep the threatening color from rising to her cheeks.

"Was Ginny asleep?" Tom asked, sounding genuinely interested.

Ron shot him a nasty glare that was brimming with all the fiery emotions, such as hate, spite, jealousy, hate, anger, malice, loathing, envy, hate, suspicion, hate, and many others. After all, what right did the bloody, Hermione-stealing muggle have to be interested in his innocent sister's affairs?

"Huh?" Harry looked confused for a moment. "Oh, no. She just got out of the shower."

Ron watched Tom's face for any misgiving thoughts at this statement, but found none. He then looked to Harry. "She _what_?" he asked, the fact that Harry had just been upstairs, alone, with his sister, who had apparently just gotten out of the shower, dawning upon him.

Harry gave him a vexed look. "She just got out of the shower," he repeated.

Ron calmed down a bit. What was he thinking? Harry was his best mate. He had no ill wishes for his sister. Besides, he knew that he was on thin ice after he had broken her heart in sixth year. If he antagonized her any more than that . . . Well, candidly, there was no rule against friends, even of the closest sort, giving each other a good kick in the shins or otherwise. "Oh," Ron said evenly, "okay."

Harry raised his eyebrows, turning to look at the foyer as the sound of the front door opening reached the room. Neville and Luna entered, the latter looking horribly bedraggled and the former looking nearly as bad, no doubt from worrying about the latter. Harry felt hideously guilty for having let their conditions get so bad. What kind of a host was he?

"Harry," Luna said, pressing a shaking hand to her pale forehead, "I'm terribly sorry." She raised her large eyes to meet his.

"You don't have anything to be sorry about, Luna. What's wrong?" Harry asked.

"My head aches; my hands are clammy; my ears are ringing constantly; and I know none of it's from your wonderful hosting. I just can't stay here with all of this fighting. Even when no one's saying anything, there's a raging battle going on. I hate to say it Harry, but your other guests are driving me out of my mind!" Luna cried, clasping her hands together and giving Harry a look that begged for forgiveness.

Neville placed an assuring hand on her shoulder. "Luna, perhaps we could-"

"No, it's all right," Harry interrupted. "I'm half near mental myself." He looked gravely at Ron, who sent a gritty glare back at him.

Luna looked slightly relieved. "You're a wonderful host, Harry. Really. It's just the tension, and the covert glances that no one was supposed to notice, and the uncontrolled emotions . . ."

Harry nodded. "I know exactly what you mean. You don't need to explain."

"Thank you," Luna sighed. She turned to Hermione and Tom. "Hermione, it was lovely seeing you again. I wish you and Tom the best of luck." She was about to turn away, but she suddenly looked at Ron. "And, Ronald, you really must learn to lighten up a bit. There's much more to life than your happiness. Try making others happier for once. Your good fortune will come." She gave Ron a true seer's smile and turned back to her fiancée.

The manner in which Tom and Hermione had been addressed, as if they were a promising couple or some other crock of nonsense, made Ron's heart thump painfully, and he was considerably more edgy. "Yea, I'll get right on that," he grunted sarcastically, giving Tom another sizzling emotion-filled glower.

Hermione's cheeks had blossomed with color, and she hurried to try to correct Luna's not-so-obvious mistake. "Luna, Tom and I aren't-"

"Tell Ginny I said goodbye," Luna said abruptly. "Adieu." She disappeared from the room with a subtle _Pop_.

Neville stood in the doorway, grinning nervously. "I'd better get going," he stated. "It was nice seeing you all." He then vanished, too.

Harry folded his arms across his chest as he turned around, giving Ron and Hermione "the look". Hermione grimaced, glancing at Ron, who had a similar look of guilt on his face. "I figure it's too late now, since the pair of you have already scared off two of my guests, but would you _please_ bury whatever hatchets you happen to be using to chop up all traces of sanity in my house and _GET_ OVER IT!" Harry mostly demanded, yelling by the end of his request.

Hermione stared Ron, obviously waiting for him to act first.

"I'm not burying anything if she's not," Ron said in a very childish manner.

Hermione narrowed her eyes. "And I won't if he won't."

Tom looked at Harry and caught his gaze, a gaze that looked mischievous, very mischevious indeed.

"Fine then. If you want to act like children, Tom and I will treat you like children. You can go to your rooms until you've thought this out," Harry said.

Hermione gave him a skeptical look.

"Hermione, I know this seems odd, but I can't have my best friends fighting like old enemies when they should be laughing and having a good time," Harry explained, looking at Tom for agreement.

Tom nodded. "It's quite tasking, having to make sure you two don't bite each other's heads off when we're trying to chat," he said, giving Hermione an amused look with his eyes, but keeping his lips unsmiling.

Hermione opened her mouth, wanting very badly to tell Tom off, but she closed it again. Instead, she stood up, as if going to her room. On the way to the door, she leaned down by Tom's chair. "You're really asking for it," she hissed in his ear before pressing her lips to his cheek to complete the act.

Tom grinned stupidly, going along with the ruse, if only to see Ron's reaction, which was one of frigid proportions. In an attempt to get more of a response than stony silence, which could have been caused by the odd punishment Harry was dishing out, Tom gave him a quizzical look, which was returned with something of a death glare. Tom pretended to be taken aback, and gave Ron another look of inquiry. Ron turned away, looking rather red in the face.

Hermione turned around. "Harry, if _he_ doesn't have to go, then neither should I," she said, disdainfully fixing her eyes on Ron.

Harry gave Ron "the look" again and nodded. "Go," he said, pointing to Hermione.

Ron formed his lips into a reverently straight line and headed to the hallway in which Hermione was waiting, watching him walk to her.

They began heading up the stairs, to the floor on which their rooms were placed. Neither of them wanted to say a word, but Ron felt he had to. "This is incredibly stupid," he grumbled quietly.

Hermione looked at him mutely, though that muteness was doomed to failure. "If you would have just apologized-" she blurted.

"I didn't do anything!" Ron interrupted.

"I don't want to relive what happened! It was bad enough the first time! You're trying to force me to talk about it, Ron! That's doing something!" Hermione countered.

"Hermione, I can't forget things as easily as you apparently can," Ron said, and Hermione noted that his voice had suddenly gone soft.

"You think I forgot about how you died?" Hermione asked, feeling tears well up in her eyes.

Ron shook his head. "But you want to . . . And I want to. If we talk about it, maybe we can both move o-"

Hermione shook his words from her head. "Just don't, please. Just . . . Just _stop_."

Ron stopped in his tracks and took her hands in his, pulling her to a halt with him. "You can't keep running from me by yelling at me and telling me that I'm worthless. In order to get Harry to trust us, we have to get along. You do realize that?" he asked.

"Ron . . ." Hermione's eyes were overflowing with tears, and she felt herself cracking. But she didn't want to talk about it. She didn't want him to know. She couldn't . . . The pain . . .

"Don't cry, Hermione," Ron whispered, pulling Hermione into his arms.

This made Hermione sob even harder, wanting to stay, yet wanting to go at the same time. "Ron," she muttered.

"Hermione . . . I wasn't lying when I said that seeing you was all I've been looking forward to all summer . . . I'm sorry I screwed it up right off . . ."

Hermione choked back another sob. "I'm sorry I let you screw it up," she said in a hushed voice, pulling him closer.

Ron laughed a bit, trying to ignore the tears that had come to rest in his eyes. "I've missed you," he admitted quietly.

Hermione shook her head slightly. "God, Ron, what are we doing?" she asked.

"We're crying," Ron said, letting a tear slide down his cheek.

Hermione laughed faintly. "I've missed you, too."

**Exclusive A/N(Written immediately upon finishing Ch. 8): Aw . . . I choked myself up there at the end . . . Bad Oasis! Bad! No making yourself cry! Tee hee. I feel good about how I turned Ron into a royal softie . . . but was he out of character? Anyway, I just want you to know; this is NOT the end of the story. NOT THE END! I mean, like, _SO_ not! Really, it's hardly the beginning! Muah ha! Uh oh . . . I'm all choked up again . . . Curses . . . I'm a bad person . . . It's not good to make oneself cry! Please review. How did you like my dearest, secretly softhearted Ronniekins at the end?**

**A/N: Argh . . . By the time I'd read this chapter over again . . . and over again . . . and over _AGAIN_, the entire scenario seemed ridiculously cheesey . . . I hope some of you got some enjoyment from it though! Please review.**


	9. Secrets

**A/N: Heya! Long time, no see! Yea, see, this chapter's slightly boring, I think, but that totally doesn't mean you should skip it! 'Cause if you do, the rest of the story won't make any sense! I can't wait to post Chapter 10. Of course, I don't really want to die just yet . . . Heh heh heh . . . Anyway, read and enjoy!**

**Chapter 9**

**Secrets**

Ginny came out of her room, ready to head downstairs, but she stopped in mid-step when she caught sight of her brother, the idiot that had blessedly closed his eyes and prevented himself from seeing his sister standing there in shock, holding Hermione in his arms. When had they become romantically involved? Had Ginny missed _that_ much while she was taking her shower? That was the _last_ time she was going to try to relax while bathing. And wait; was Ron _crying_? What on Earth was going on?

Apparation was going to be the best way to get out of there, obviously. So, Ginny popped out of the hallway, glad that by the time Ron realized that someone had apparated or disapparated to or from his general vicinity (if he realized at all), she would be long gone. Therefore, he would have no reason to bring out any of the blackmail he had on her, to keep her from telling Harry, and maybe Tom, about her sightings.

She landed herself directly on top of Harry in the living room, where he was sitting in a squashy chair. "Damn it," she whispered, looking into Harry's wide, green eyes. "Sorry, Harry. I'm afraid I'm a terrible apparater."

Tom looked at her comically. "A young woman as pretty as yourself shouldn't be using such vulgar language," he said flirtatiously, "Even if she mysteriously falls through the ceiling and lands on someone."

Harry laughed uneasily. "He's right, Gin," he agreed.

"I hope I didn't hurt you," Ginny said as she got off him and made her way to a separate chair.

Harry shook his head. "I'm fine," he lied. He was far from fine. His gymnastic stomach was high again, and his heart had apparently paid his stomach off for a bit of its goods.

Ginny gave him a thoroughly concerned look. "Are you sure?"

Harry nodded. "Yea. I'll be all right."

Ginny still stared at him as she sat down. "_All_ right," she said cautiously. She suddenly remembered a pair of individuals who were still probably holding each other ever so gently in the hallway, a short ways from her room. "You'll never guess why I had to apparate down here," she said, grinning. She loved knowing things that other people didn't.

"You got lazy and decided it would be easier to jump through the ceiling than walk all the way down two flights of stairs?" Tom asked; he still didn't quite get the concept of apparation.

Ginny laughed jubilantly. "No, and you're not even close to close!"

Harry frowned at her. "You couldn't get out of your room?" he asked.

Ginny shook her head, grinning.

"Come on, Ginny," Tom whined. "Just tell us!"

Ginny giggled. "I saw the weirdest thing when I came out of my room," she said.

Harry and Tom watched her expectantly.

She said nothing.

"_Well_!" the men asked unanimously.

"Ron and Hermione," Ginny prompted.

Tom's eyes widened, and Harry frowned. "They didn't get in another fight, did they?" the latter asked.

Ginny gave him an exasperated look. "That would _hardly_ be considered weird, Harry," she said.

"Don't tell me, after all the trouble I've gone to, that they just _suddenly_ began snogging each other?" Tom queried.

Ginny shook her head. "But they were hugging. I mean, just . . . standing there with their arms wrapped around each other. Ron looked elated! Hee hee! It's just _so_ romantic . . . But when I think about the male in the situation as my brother, it's simply nauseating!"

Harry laughed. "I knew it! Tom, you and I are geniuses."

Tom chuckled also. "It was all you, Harry. I just agreed with you when you cued me in."

"Come to think of it, Hermione helped when she kissed you to make Ron jealous! It was just what they needed to boost their emotion drive!" Harry joked.

Ginny raised an eyebrow. "Harry, Tom, what in God's name are you two talking about?"

Harry and Tom began to tell the story of what had happened within the last fifteen minutes.

---------

Meanwhile, the pair in the hallway above still stood together, breathing rhythmically. Apparently, neither had noticed the pop of Ginny's departure.

Hermione didn't want to pull away, for fear she would shatter the bond that had grown between Ron and herself. But alas, all good things must come to an end, and Ron tore himself away from the silence to address reality. "Harry'll expect us to be in our rooms," he said, looking down at Hermione with a slightly self-conscious smile as he stepped back.

Hermione nodded, hating the cold feeling that swept over her as she left Ron's arms. "Should we tell him?" she asked.

Ron reached out and brushed her cheek with his fingertips, shaking his head.

Hermione turned away. "See you when he lets us out," she muttered, only just managing to keep a detached smile from her face.

She reached her room and shut the door, leaning against it, and pressing a shaking hand to her cheek. What was Ron doing? Did he want her to lose her mind? Did he want her to miss the feel of his arms around her? Did he want . . . her? She shook her head. Ron obviously had some odd issue that had nothing to do with her. Maybe he was just lusting after the only available girl in the house because he was lonely. Yes, that was probably it. He didn't love her. Hermione had convinced herself of that, _years_ ago. He was just desperate. That was all.

Hot tears ran down Hermione's cheeks again. What had happened in the hall was going to be a secret. No one else could know . . . No one.

Yet, she wanted everyone to know. Everyone to acknowledge her feelings for Ron and for him to return them.

She took a shuddering breath. She couldn't let Ron tear her apart. He was just toying with her for the thrill of it. Maybe he had missed her, but so had Harry. And Ginny, and Luna, and Neville.

Ronald Weasley was not going to get the best of Hermione Granger. Never. He may have stolen her heart, but her sanity, though barely in her clutches, was not going to be snatched away as easily.

She would do anything it took to rein in her common sense. Avoid him, give him the cold shoulder, fight with him, _anything_, though all of the possible methods would involve suffocating her feelings, shoving them down where no one would see them. And maybe it was for the best.

Hermione sniffed, stepping away from her door with something like newfound confidence. She would be resolutely cold, indifferent toward the one she loved . . . because it was necessary . . . And because there were secrets that had to be kept.

-----

"You're telling me that you just sent them to their rooms like _children_?" Ginny asked, laughing aloud.

Harry nodded, grinning at Tom, who, he noted, was staring rather dreamily at a certain redheaded girl.

Ginny's chortles died down, and her smile faded as she recalled, again, what she had seen. "You know . . . Ron was . . . Well, he would absolutely _hate_ me for telling you this, but he was . . . crying," she said quietly.

Both Harry and Tom, who hardly knew Ron but knew enough to acknowledge his strictly unemotional demeanor, were shocked.

"He was crying?" Harry asked incredulously.

"Are you sure?" Tom queried, a new plot forming in his mind. Perhaps Ron wasn't the obliviously dense person he had found him to be.

"Oh, I'm sure," Ginny replied gravely.

"You know, I bet if we left them alone long enough, they would admit their feelings for one another," Tom mused.

Harry raised an eyebrow. "What do you have in mind?"

"Do you have a calendar?" Tom inquired, looking thoughtful.

"Somewhere around here . . ." Harry stood and headed into the kitchen in search of the requested item.

"Do you think they're really in love?" Ginny asked Tom after a moment of silence.

Tom shrugged. "Maybe, but what would I know? I think it'll be worthwhile to try and set them up . . . because it'll probably work."

"Do you really think so?"

Tom shrugged. "Yea, I guess."

Ginny bit her lip. "I wish I could find the person I was meant to be with," she mumbled.

Tom contemplated this statement for a second or two. "We all do," he replied.

Ginny looked up at him slowly, a small smile adorning her lips.

Harry reentered the room just then. "Saturday's Muggle Appreciation Day," he muttered as he flipped through the calendar. He looked up just in time to see Ginny gazing at Tom with a dazed look on her face.

Tom looked at Harry hurriedly. "Can I see that?" he asked, holding out his hand.

"Yea, sure," Harry replied, handing Tom the calendar as he passed, looking curiously at Ginny, who was examining her nails with the tiniest of grins on her face.

"Yes! I knew it. My birthday's on Saturday, too," Tom announced, looking up at Harry as if he hoped the latter had caught onto his devious plan.

Harry was drawing a blank, and his face said so.

"All right, Harry. You lived with my sort for a while; didn't you?" Tom asked, looking ready to burst with the prospect of his plot.

Harry nodded, frowning as he tried to derive a conclusion.

"Didn't they ever throw a surprise party for someone?"

Harry's eyes widened. "Leave them alone while we carry out the guise of an outing to keep you distracted . . ."

"The tension builds up . . ." Tom continued.

"Honestly, you two must be telepathically connected," Ginny interrupted, laughing.

Tom flashed her a toothy smile. "It's all for a good cause," he proclaimed, his eyes lingering in a locked gaze with Ginny's for no more than a moment.

"Today's Tuesday," Harry declared abruptly, trying in vain to convince himself he had been saying it for a reason and not just to break up the longing stare of the duo across the room from him.

"So we have three days to prepare?" Tom asked, obviously feeling a bit of tension welling up from his and Ginny's subtle chemistry.

Harry nodded. "I suggest we start making plans right now. How long we'll leave them, what alibi we'll use, etcetera."

"Let's get on it then!" Tom exclaimed enthusiastically.

"It's a good thing those two have to stay in their rooms," Ginny muttered as they headed for the kitchen to draw up the plans.

There was a short silence at these words before all three of them burst into reckless, Machiavellian laughter.

**A/N: Who uses the word "Machiavellian"? Well, I suppose I do . . . but still. I do hope you enjoyed this enough to review! **


	10. How Things Happen

**A/N: Hello and goodbye. For a while, after I post this, I'm going to take some time away from work on an original story, which I hope will flourish into something more than a cruddy beginning and a budding plotline. So, I hope you enjoy this update because they may be few and far between for some time now.**

**Chapter 10**

**How Things Happen**

It was over five hours before Tom, Ginny, and Harry finished working on their scheme to get Ron and Hermione together. Sure, they had to admit it was a _bit_ ludicrous, but they still had a feeling it was going to work.

Ginny had gone to pull some carrots from the garden, and Tom was sitting at the table while Harry used his wand to throw random ingredients into the pot of some type of stew he was making for dinner.

It was then that Tom remembered what had happened earlier that morning, involving Hermione's dream and all. Something had been nagging at him all day, and he thought that that moment, with just Harry and himself in the room would be a good time to inquire about it. "Harry . . ." he began surprisingly hesitantly.

Harry glanced at him, seeming perturbed by his sudden nervousness. "Yes?" he asked, swishing his wand vigorously.

"Er . . . how did you . . ." Tom cleared his throat. "How did you bring Ron back to life?"

Harry stopped "cooking" abruptly, staring directly in front of him, his breathing slightly shallow. "What?" he asked weakly.

Tom anxiously shoved a hand through his hair. "H-how did you bring Ron back . . . after he d-"

"It's complicated," Harry interrupted, returning to his practices, though he still looked shaken.

"I figured as much . . . but _how_?" Tom persisted.

"I don't want to talk about it."

"Harry . . ."

"I had to use a reincarnating spell and . . ." Harry said quickly, as if he was anxious to get it over with since the topic wasn't dropping. There was a short silence before he continued with an insipid sigh. "I expect Hermione told you about . . . horcruxes."

Tom's eyes widened as he nodded.

Harry turned suddenly, as if defending himself. "It's not like I wanted to make him a horcrux!"

Tom shrank back a bit, trying to look like he understood, though he was sure he didn't.

Harry calmed down a bit, turning around again. "But it was the only way," he explained. "Of course, it didn't work at first. I had to try it several times, putting the horcrux and the reincarnation spell together, all the while worrying about Hermione and . . . Ginny. But then, he finally . . . Ron finally showed some signs of life. He was breathing and . . . he opened his eyes. But . . ."

Tom wasn't about to push Harry any further on this touchy subject, so he waited patiently.

"Well, there were some complications, but I don't think it really matters now," Harry finished, obviously dismissing the topic.

"I . . . I just kind of wonder why Hermione would . . . She seems rather depressed that he lived," Tom stated cautiously.

Harry looked at Tom slowly, his eyes ablaze. "I don't think that really concerns any of us, Tom," he said coolly.

The door to the backyard opened and Ginny came in carrying an armful of carrots. "Really, Harry, how long has it been since you de-gnomed the garden!" she exclaimed, dropping the carrots on the table to reveal her cheerful grin. She looked from Tom to Harry hurriedly as her smile faded. "Did you two have a row?" she asked, brushing herself free of dirt.

Harry met her eyes, warming slightly. "No, of course not," he replied, turning back to the stew. "Would you like to make tea?"

Ginny hopped to the task without so much as a query about the stony silence, in on which she had walked. "Tom, you should go get Ron and Hermione," she suggested as she set a teakettle on a burner to boil.

Tom stood up promptly, not at all anxious to be stuck in the room with a cold, distant Harry any longer. He made his way up the stairs and to Hermione's room. He knocked audaciously, pushing the door open when he got no response. "Hermiiioneee," he crooned, poking his head into the room.

Hermione was sitting against the wall in the farthest corner of her room, arms resting on her knees with her head buried in them. "What, Tom?" she asked in a muffled voice.

Tom paused, instantly concerned. "What's wrong?" he asked.

Hermione glared up at him, ignoring the worried look on his face. "I don't want to talk about it," she said in a low voice.

"I'm getting that response a lot lately," Tom muttered under his breath. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine. Is there anything else?" Hermione queried frigidly.

"It's teatime, but I want to know what's wrong-"

"I don't want to talk about it! And I don't want tea right now."

"Hermione, what happened?" Tom asked firmly.

"Mind your own business, Tom!" Hermione snapped, obviously becoming irked.

"This is my business! You're obviously upset for some reason, and I want to know why-"

"Get out," Hermione snapped.

"Hermione, I'm your best fr-"

"Get _out_," Hermione commanded again.

"Hermione! What's-"

"_GET OUT_!" Hermione hollered, and Tom didn't have time to reply before she had whipped out her wand and used a repelling charm to push him out the door and into the hallway.

Tom landed roughly on floor. "Her-" he tried, but the door closed with a loud _SLAM!_

Tom stood up from where he had been sitting and began to walk toward the door again. It was then that he noticed a predominantly angry-looking Ron stalking around the corner. He bristled instantly.

"What did you do to her?" both men asked in unison when they were no more than a few feet from one another.

"What did _I_ do!" Ron asked indignantly. "She was just fine when _I_ left her!"

"Well, she certainly wasn't fine when I went in to see her!" Tom retorted.

"Maybe she just didn't want to see you!" Ron snarled, clenching his fists at his sides and stepping forward.

"That's rich coming from you! She's always running away when you come around! I wonder why!"

Ron lunged forward and had Tom pinned against the wall by his shirt collar in an instant. "Are you saying I would _hurt_ Hermione?"

"Maybe I am," Tom replied indifferently.

Ron took a swing at Tom, hitting him square in the nose, which ultimately covered them both in a fair amount of blood. "I _love_ her, you bloody muggle, and I'm _not_ about to let you say I don't," he said menacingly.

"I wasn't about to, wizard," Tom countered, barring his teeth after Ron took another punch and split his lip.

"If you don't leave her alone-"

"I'm not the one she needs to worry about, obviously!" Tom interrupted boldly.

Ron pulled out his wand and pressed it to Tom's throat. "Say that again," he growled.

"RON, WHAT ARE YOU _DOING_?" Ginny's voice came from the end of the hall. She sprinted toward the two men and tore Ron away from Tom. "Get _off_ him, you _git_!" she snapped. "Christ, wait till I tell Harry about this." She shoved Ron back viciously, and he hit the wall on the other side of the hallway.

"So, I've lost my own sister to this-this _muggle_!" Ron exclaimed, shaking with rage.

Ginny tilted Tom's chin upward, to keep the blood from flowing as quickly, and turned to Ron. "You're bringing this on yourself, Ron. When you go punching harmless visitors in the face, it's no wonder people start to dislike you! And to think I had hoped that you crying was a sign of sensitivity!"

"Me crying? . . . You . . . you _saw_?" Ron was speechless, and it was apparent, so, to keep himself from the imminent humiliation, he apparated out of the hall without so much as another word.

"God, Tom, what'd you do?" Ginny asked softly, leading Tom to the bathroom. Tom sat on the toilet lid obediently.

"I don't want to do anything you're not comfortable with, so I'll just have to patch you up the muggle way . . . if I can remember how; Mum taught me _ages_ ago . . . and it's not like I ever needed to use it." Ginny rambled. She was mumbling more to herself than Tom as she handed him a rag with which to stop the bleeding. The blood flow had soon diminished to a point where she could work effectively on his split lower lip.

"I don't see why he hates me so much," Tom muttered as she washed the bloody rag out in the sink.

"He thinks you're trying to take Hermione from him, of course," Ginny reasoned, holding Tom's head as she wiped most of the remaining blood from his face.

"That's no reason to punch a man in the face," Tom said exasperatedly.

Ginny shrugged. "That's how Ron's always gone about things. No hard feelings, I hope?"

"I'd rather not get in another duel with someone who could pull a wand on me at any moment," Tom said, laughing slightly.

Ginny looked down at him as she opened the medicine cabinet to pull out a bottle of alcohol. "You _aren't_ trying to steal Hermione from him; right?" She took a cotton ball from a bag sitting on the shelf and poured the disinfectant onto it.

The corners of Tom's lips twitched upward. "And if I _was_?" he asked tauntingly, though he knew that Ginny knew that he wasn't about to go after his best friend, especially when he had spent the whole of the morning planning how to hook her up with someone who despised him.

Ginny contemplated him before smiling. "Well, I'm not sure I wouldn't go punching Hermione in the face . . . If you were, of course," she joked in a casual tone, though her eyes flashed with mischief.

Tom raised his eyebrows, catching on to exactly what Ginny was saying. "Well, there's no need for that. I promise." He cracked a grin.

"I'm glad," Ginny admitted with a touch of coyness in her voice as her cheeks tinged a bright pink. "This is going to sting a bit," she warned teasingly before she pressed the cotton to Tom's wound.

Tom winced, though he adored how soothing Ginny's chocolate brown eyes were as they bored into his. "You'd make a great nurse," he commented lightheartedly as the cotton left his skin.

Ginny gave him a perplexed look. "Why on Earth would you say something like that? I'm terrible at fixing people up."

"It's your eyes," Tom said, still staring into those russet pools of calm.

Ginny's cheeks flushed a certain shade of red. "What do you mean?" she asked, seeming confused, though she couldn't keep a smile from adorning her features.

"They're very soothing," Tom explained, touching Ginny's hand with his own as she brought the cotton to his lip again. "And they'd keep the patients distracted."

"Oh," Ginny replied nearly inaudibly. She took the disinfectant away once more and gave him an affable grin. "All done," she announced.

Tom still held her hand, and her gaze dropped from his twinkling eyes to his lips. Before she knew it, she was leaning forward, disregarding the fact that she hardly knew Hermione's friend. Her hands clutched his shoulders for support, and she smiled into the kiss. The pair seemed to be losing themselves in their sudden passion, but a cough from the doorway led them to break apart.

Ginny turned her head slowly and was surprised to see Harry standing just outside the bathroom, wearing a look of uncertainty and perhaps irritation. "I wondered what was taking so long," he stated dryly.

Ginny felt herself going redder and stood up straight, trying to mask her embarrassment.

"The tea's ready," Harry continued grimly.

"Thanks, Harry," Tom said, smiling agreeably.

Harry nodded and turned around. Perhaps teatime was far from the most eventful occurrence happening at Grimmauld Place, and perhaps that wasn't such a good thing.

**A/N: I hope you liked it, but if you hate me for what I've done, I apologize deeply. I plan to finish this story sometime this summer (possibly earlier, depending upon the happenings from now to then), and I hope you're all happy with it by the end. **

**Also, I would like to thank all of my reviewers for getting me to 100 reviews. I LOVE YOU GUYS! As well, I'd like to offer my gratitude to those of you who just read my works or even just this story. As long as someone out there is having a good time, I'm happy. **

**Au revoir and hasta luego!**


	11. Lost

**Chapter 11**

**Lost**

Ron scuffed his feet on the ground, his hands shoved into his pockets. _I blame all this on stupid Tom._ Ron curled his lip at the thought of the muggle, having the urge to hit something . . . again.

"It's not _my_ fault he provoked me. It's none of his business how I feel about Hermione," he said aloud, sighing as he did so. "And now Ginny's taking his side, too. My own flesh and blood is turning her back on me! And Harry is probably going to _kill_ me when I get home. Damn it! This _really_ couldn't get any worse."

And then, as if the deity of corny clichés had decided to pay Ron a visit, the clouds that hadn't been noticeable before let out a harsh downpour of rain. Ron narrowed his eyes but pressed on, though he wasn't sure where he was going.

"AND HOW DID SHE KNOW I WAS CRYING? IT DOESN'T MAKE ANY SENSE! I WOULD HAVE NOTICED HER IF SHE HAD BEEN IN THE HALL!" Ron cried over the din of the storm. The torrent of precipitation died down to a whispering shower within seconds. "I hope you're happy, muggle!" he shouted into the distance, shaking in his soaked clothing as he walked.

"Mew!" a sound from nearby called.

Ron paused. He shrugged and continued his trek when he heard nothing.

"Meeeeooow."

Ron stopped again. What on Earth was that noise?

Suddenly, a black blur came out from under a bush to Ron's right and latched onto his pant leg.

"AH!" Ron hollered in shock.

"_Merow_!" the black ball attached to Ron screeched.

Did Ron dare touch it? _Well, if I don't, it's going to stay attached to my leg._ Ron reasoned with himself. Judging on that fact, he disgustedly reached down, grabbed the thing by the bulk of its body, and lifted it to where he could see it properly.

"I hate cats," he grumbled, looking into the wide, yellow eyes of the sopping kitten in his hands.

"Meow!" the cat snapped, trying to wriggle free of Ron's grasp.

Ron dropped it willingly and turned around, intent on heading back home to either cower in his room or face Harry's wrath head on.

He had taken one step before he halted again due to the feeling of claws dug into the back of his leg. "OUCH!" he bellowed, bending down and pulling the little, black fiend from his pants once again. "What is your PROBLEM?" he yelled.

"Meow," the cat replied.

Ron scowled and leaned over to manually place the cat on the ground. "Stay!" he snapped, turning back toward Grimmauld Place again.

A feeling of relief swept over him when he had walked a ways without a disturbance from the frustrating feline. He made the mistake of taking a fleeting glimpse of what was behind him and spotted the cat trotting down the pavement. Once the black mess caught his eye, it hurried forward until it was walking directly alongside him.

Ron stopped moving and glared down at the tiny beast. "Go _home_!" he exclaimed, more than irritated that this . . . _thing_ was trying to trail him back. "I don't need anymore bad luck right now, so _scat_!" He stepped forward menacingly, and the cat hopped to the side, apparently thinking Ron's anger was a fun game.

"Mew?" it queried, and Ron could almost see its smirk.

"Fine. Follow me for all I care, but don't think I'm letting you inside," Ron muttered, walking toward the house again. He glanced back after a while and was annoyed to see that the kitten had taken him up on his offer and was tagging along. "Great."

It wasn't long before both Ron and the kitten had reached Grimmauld Place, and Ron pivoted on the doorstep, looking back at the cat, which was staring up at him through the drizzling rain. "Good bye," Ron said wryly as he opened the door, stepped inside the house, and closed the door. He paused, listening for anyone who might be approaching him at that moment to tell him off or worse. Nothing.

_In that case, I might as well check and see if the bloody creature is gone._ Ron was preparing himself to say, "Good riddance to bad rubbish.", but he didn't get the chance because when he peeked through the curtain in the door-side window, a certain onyx feline was still outside the house, its head cocked questioningly as it allowed itself to be further sodden with the rain.

Ron stared at it in confusion. Why didn't it just leave? It wasn't as if _he_ wanted a cat. In fact, he would never even _like_ cats. But its miniscule, black body, shaking slightly from the cold wasn't something he could just ignore. He didn't dislike cats _that_ much.

_I'm not doing this because I want to. I'm doing it because it's what Hermione would want me to do. **Yea, keep telling yourself that.** And it's not because I feel sorry for that thing. I just wouldn't want a dead animal rotting in front of the house. **And, you know, there's always the fact that it's lost, just like you. **_Ron shook his head to keep himself from arguing with his subconscious any more than necessary. He would have to let the cat in . . . for the time being. He would send it back out again as soon as the rain cleared up.

**_Yea . . . Sure._ **

"Argh!" Ron pulled the door open and stood in the doorway. "Here, kitty, kitty!" The black cat sprinted up to the door and was about to go inside of its own accord, but Ron scooped it up and held it at arm's length. "My rules, cat," he growled, though he couldn't shove the feeling that he was getting attached to this annoying kitten even though he had only known it for less than an hour.


	12. Bugger

**Chapter 12**

**Bugger**

Tom took another sip of his tea, glancing up to find Harry's cold glare still directed right at him. The entire teatime had been brutally tense, and Tom had a feeling it was all his fault.

Ginny cleared her throat again. "So, Harry, what kind of stew are we having for dinner?" she queried, trying fruitlessly to start conversation.

Harry didn't look away from Tom as he curtly replied, "Beef."

"Is . . . is something wrong?" Ginny asked.

"No. Just admiring that cut of Tom's," Harry said, realizing with a jolt that he was displaying his jealousy a bit too clearly and looking down into his cup. "What happened?"

Tom shrugged, meeting Ginny's gaze. "Had a run-in with Ron."

For once, when discussing Ron's sour attitude toward the guests, Harry didn't seemed displeased; he looked quite the opposite, in fact, what with the barely noticeable smirk adorning his lips. "Did you? What did you do?" he inquired politely.

"I dunno. Ginny and I think that he thinks I'm trying to steal Hermione from him," Tom responded casually.

Harry stared up at Tom, a fresh wave of dislike on his face. "And are you?"

Harry's reaction had Tom fairly stunned, and he just stared back.

"Of course he's not," Ginny butted in. "Goodness, Harry. Even _I_ know that."

Harry couldn't look at her. It was too painful. Instead, he pushed his chair away from the table in silence. "You must be right," he muttered, taking his cup to the sink. "Ginny, can we speak . . . in private?" he asked.

Ginny looked at Tom dismissively, reaching out to squeeze his hand. Tom smiled at her and stood to leave the room.

No sooner had the door closed than Harry had turned to face Ginny. "What about Colin?" he interrogated curtly.

Ginny gave him a befuddled look. "What?"

"Colin Creevey, your current beau?" Harry reiterated, wincing at his last word.

Ginny went tomato red. "Oh, _that_ Colin . . . Erm . . . We broke up last week," she admitted, squirming under Harry's piercing gaze.

Harry calmed down a bit. "But you told Hermione-"

"I lied, all right! _He_ ditched _me_, and I guess I wasn't over it," Ginny interrupted.

"I . . . I'm sorry," Harry said quietly.

"Don't be."

There was an awkward silence, and Ginny moved to put her empty cup in the sink.

Harry looked at her, leaning against the counter casually, though the pounding of his heart told him that he was anything but relaxed. "So, this thing with Tom . . . It's serious?" he asked.

Ginny smiled dreamily. "I don't know; I've only known him for a day. But I hope so. He really is fabulous. I almost can't believe Hermione didn't go after him after all these years," she quipped.

Harry's heart ached with the pain of replacement, and he turned away, nodding. "She has Ron, of course."

"Yea, but Ron's . . . Well . . . he's _Ron_," Ginny laughed.

Harry chuckled in response. "Good old Ron," he sighed. "What are we going to do if our plan fails?"

"I dunno. I imagine that they'll work things out themselves if we just give them a little push. Sometimes, that's all it takes."

The door to the hallway opened slowly, and a fearful-looking Ron entered. He looked at Harry warily, avoiding his sister's gaze completely.

Harry realized that Ginny was watching him expectantly, and he knew he had to bring himself to reprimand Ron, though he was actually rather satisfied with his previous actions, considering the circumstances. "So, Ginny told me about the incident," Harry began, trying to muster the maturity to accept that it was wrong to punch people in the face, even if they were stealing the love of your life.

Ron stared at him inexpressively. "What about it?"

"It's completely unfounded for you to go punching our guests," Harry continued.

"Exactly!" Ginny butted in. "You are the most indignant _pig_ ever to live! You had no reason to go hitting poor Tom! He didn't do anything to you!"

Ron looked at her finally, giving up his stand. It was no use arguing with people who adored Tom over their own kin. "Fine. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have hit him. I just need to get some milk." He walked past them and to the refrigerator, pulling a glass from the cupboard.

Ginny and Harry stood dumbfounded. "What?" Ginny asked.

"I need some milk," Ron repeated, his voice dull. He poured the milk into the glass. He put the carton back and started back toward the door.

Ginny grabbed his arm and stopped him. "No, you _apologized_! Since when does_ that_ happen?"

Ron shrugged her hand off him and kept walking. "I dunno."

Harry caught the tone in his voice. He sounded beyond depressed. Perhaps he had been a bit too hard on him in the past hours.

------

The kitchen door shut behind Ron, and he sighed. Standing still, he apparated into his room upstairs, making sure to get a good hold on the glass of milk before he did so.

He checked the lock on the door to his room and moved to his bed, where a certain black kitten was cleaning itself on a towel. Ron sat down next to the towel and held the cup of whole milk close enough that the kitten could smell it.

"Mew," the feline called, stumbling over to the glass and dipping practically its entire face into the milk to get a drink.

Ron shook his head, pulling the cup away. After a few minutes of fumbling about, attempting to get the cat to drink the milk the easy way, Ron ended up hand-feeding it the milk by dipping his finger into the cup and letting the cat lick the milk off it.

"You're going to be harder to take care of than I thought," he murmured, stroking the furball's head absentmindedly. "And you still need a name . . ." The cat stared up with its wide, yellow eyes and dug its claws into Ron's hand for no apparent reason. "Ow! That hurt, you little bugger!" Ron snapped, setting the glass on his bedside table and picking the cat up. "That's it, I hereby name you Bugger," he proclaimed, looking at the kitten in a new light. He couldn't get too attached. In fact, he shouldn't have even been bestowing the cat with a name. _Tomorrow, this cat is going back where it came from. **Sure.**_

"Merow!" Bugger yowled in reply, struggling to free himself from Ron's grip. Ron laughed mockingly and set the cat on his floor, from whence it scurried under Ron's bed.


	13. Blustering

**A/N: I think I'm probably going to work on just this story for a while because I can feel the end nearing, so yea . . . Hope you like this chapter!**

**Chapter 13**

**Blustering**

While feeding Bugger, Ron had more than enough time to reflect on the events of the past hours. Suddenly, it struck him; he had told the bloody _muggle_ that he loved Hermione!

"Damn it!" he hollered, allowing his hand to collide with his forehead in a resounding **smack**. "I'm such an _idiot_!"

There was a knock at the door, and Ron jumped in surprise. He sprung up from his bed and went to open it, coming face-to-face with Harry in the process. "Hi," he said breathlessly, holding the door so that it wouldn't be opened more than necessary. "Did you need something?" he asked quickly.

Harry tried to peer around him into the room. "Uh . . . I just . . ." Ron moved to the left. Harry moved his head to the right. Ron moved to the right. Harry gave him a puzzled look. Ron smiled brightly. "I think I've been kind of hard on you lately, and I wanted to . . ." Ron's face hurt from forcing his grin. "Apologize . . . Because I know it's probably hard for you to . . ." Ron glanced over his shoulder nervously. "Uh . . . Is something wrong?"

Ron glanced back again. "No! What makes you think something's wrong!" he replied too quickly.

Harry looked at him curiously. "Seriously, what's in your room?"

Ron's eyes widened. "Nothing!" His voice was high-pitched now. "I mean, nothing but my bed and stuff-"

Harry narrowed his eyes. "Ron."

"-And my clothes and my desk and my trunk-"

Harry stared at him grimly. "_Ron_."

"It's not like I _wanted_ it to follow me home!" Ron cried, breaking under Harry's scrutinizing glare and stepping away from the door.

Harry stared in shock at the slightly damp kitten cleaning its whiskers on Ron's bed. "A cat?"

"It wouldn't leave me alone," Ron muttered guiltily. "So, I let it in."

Harry burst into laughter.

"What's so funny?" Ron asked heatedly.

"I thought you _hated_ cats!" Harry exclaimed, still guffawing at the situation.

"Well-I-I'm not _evil_, Harry. I mean, it was raining, and, after all, it's just a _little_ cat," Ron blustered.

Harry slapped his knee cheerfully. "Well, this takes the cake, Ron. Trying to impress Hermione by taking in a lost kitten. Very nice." He smirked at Ron in jest.

Ron turned red. "I wasn't! It's just! I-"

"No need to explain, mate. You can keep it." Harry turned to leave the room.

Ron strode after him. "That's just it! I don't _want_ to keep it! I'll just wait until it stops raining-"

"What's its name?" Harry asked knowingly.

"Bugger," Ron answered automatically.

Harry nodded and began walking out the door.

Ron realized his blunder and followed him. "No, wait! Just because I named him doesn't-"

**POP!** Harry had disappeared. Ron sighed and went back into his room.

-----------

Tom sat quietly in the sitting room, not sure why Harry was being so cold to him so suddenly. Maybe it had something to do with his question about how Ron was brought back to life. He would have to ask.

Tom found himself reminiscing on the kiss he and Ginny had shared. It had been quite a while since he had dated, seeing as law school took up a lot of his time, but he was glad he had met Ginny. _She really is wonderful_ he thought contentedly, resting his chin in his palm.

As unexpectedly as it always did, Tom's vision began to blur, and he prepared himself for one of his typical "visions."

What appeared to be a heap of purple cloth on a marble table burst into white flames before Tom's eyes. His view swerved around to view two individuals he happened to know as Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley, only they were younger-looking. Ginny's face was streaked with tears, and Harry's was pale but hard-set into a look of resolution. "Ginny, listen . . ." he whispered as people around them began to stand. "I can't be involved with you anymore. We've got to stop seeing each other. We can't be together."

Ginny forced a wan smile, though she looked like she understood. "It's for some stupid, noble reason, isn't it?"

Harry's face showed something like regret, but his decided air didn't change. "It's been like . . . like something out of someone else's life, these last few weeks with you," he muttered. "But I can't . . . we can't . . . I've got things to do alone now." Ginny watched him, as if analyzing every word he was saying. "Voldemort uses people his enemies are close to. He's already used you as bait once, and that was just because you're my best friend's sister. Think how much danger you'll be in if we keep this up. He'll know, he'll find out. He'll try and get to me through you."

"What if I don't care?" Ginny asked intensely.

"I care," Harry declared gently. "How do you think I'd feel if this was your funeral . . . and it was my fault . . ."

Ginny turned away and stared into the distance. "I never really gave up on you," she murmured. "Not really. I always hoped . . . Hermione told me to get on with life, maybe go out with some other people, relax a bit around you, because I never used to be able to talk if you were in the room, remember? And she thought you might take a bit more notice if I was a bit more-myself."

"Smart girl, Hermione," Harry said, attempting a smile. "I just wish I'd asked you sooner. We could've had ages . . . months . . . years maybe . . ."

"But you've been too busy saving the Wizarding world," Ginny said, letting out something like a laugh. "Well . . . I can't-"

"Hey, Tom," Ginny greeted in the real world, breaking Tom's trance.

"GAH!" he cried, jumping up and out of his chair in an effort to get away from the fast-approaching Ginny. He stumbled over an end table and landed himself flat on his back.

Ginny giggled, smiling down at him. "Sorry. I didn't mean to startle you. You looked a million miles away," she joked.

Tom raised himself up on his elbows, looking for an escape. Why hadn't Hermione told him Ginny used to be Harry's girl! No wonder he was so angry with him after he had walked in on them in the loo!

"Is something the matter?" Ginny asked, staring at him in confusion.

"What? Uh-no! I just-Uh . . . You just surprised me is all," Tom blustered.

Ginny grinned, holding out her hand. "Well, get off the floor then," she said pointedly.

Tom took her hand, almost afraid to get too close to her, for fear that Harry might walk in and cast a spell on him. Then again, Ginny might get suspicious if he suddenly stopped having an attraction toward her, and _she_ might curse him. Boy, was he in a pickle. "Uh, Ginny, I have to go get something real quick," he excused himself, dropping her hand and dashing from the room.

He sprinted up the stairs to the second floor and positioned himself in front of Hermione's door, knocking rapidly on the wood. "Open up," he whispered under his breath. "_Please_ open up."

**A/N: The dialogue from Tom's "vision" is directlyfrom Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, for those of you who didn't know. Just wanted to get that cleared up.**


	14. Talking

**A/N: Jeez. It seems like it took _forever_ to get this chapter finished and submitted. Sorry about the wait. (That sounds odd coming from me, a person who doesn't usually update until months after posting a chapter.)**

**I must say, I'm surprised at the success of this story, especially considering the _two_ OC's. Thanks to those of you who review. Speaking of the OC's, I would also like to announce my shock at how much you guys like Bugger. Hence, I dedicate this story to my cat, Pandora, on whom Bugger is essentially based. Have fun!**

**Chapter 14**

**Talking**

"Go away," Hermione's voice commanded from inside the room.

"Hermione, it's Tom. I _need_ to talk to you," Tom said pleadingly. "Please let me in."

"I'm in 'timeout'; remember? Just leave me alone."

"Hermione, this is _urgent_. Meep!" Tom froze as he spotted Harry coming around the corner. "H-hey, Harry." He waved slightly, hoping Harry didn't notice the shaking of his hands or the darting of his eyes.

Harry gave him a curt greeting, still looking sore about the circumstances. "Need to talk to Hermione," he grunted.

Tom stepped away from the door quickly, and Harry knocked. " 'Mione, it's Harry. I need to talk to you."

Tom took a deep breath while Harry's back was turned, trying to calm himself down. Harry was levelheaded. He wouldn't go attacking Tom for just any reason like Ron . . . would he?

"Wh-what do you need to talk to her about?" Tom asked, trying to start something like a conversation.

Harry glanced at him disparagingly. "Just want to catch up," he replied finally, turning back to the door. He knocked again. "Hermione, please open up. This is rather important."

"You could catch up another time," Tom suggested, doubting Hermione would want to "catch up" at the moment.

Harry looked at him again. "Could you do me a favor and go check on the stew?" he asked, a certain note in his voice telling Tom that this was not a question.

"Uh, sure!" Tom took this opportunity to get away and walked briskly toward the stairs.

Hermione opened her bedroom door slowly, peeking out at Harry and sniffling. "Sorry I'm such a mess," she apologized, turning around and stepping away so Harry could enter her room.

Harry put a hand on her shoulder. "This isn't because I sent you to your room; is it?" he asked.

Hermione glanced at him in time to see his joking expression. "Of course not," she replied with a smile. Her smiled faded quickly as she recalled the real reason she had been crying, and she turned to face him. "You said you had something important to talk with me about."

Harry suddenly turned sheepish. "Yes, um, about that . . ." He cleared his throat, sitting down on Hermione's bed. "I wanted to ask you about Tom."

Hermione watched him curiously as she seated herself next to him.

Harry shoved a hand through his hair nervously. "I-uh . . . does he treat his girlfriends well?"

Hermione's mouth fell open slightly, and she stared at him blankly.

Harry cleared his throat again. "I mean . . ." He looked at his feet. "Tom and Ginny . . ." He trailed off, not sure how to phrase what he was trying to say.

Hermione was gaping openly. "You're kidding," she stated, trying to comprehend what was going on. Harry shook his head. "He's known her for a _day_!" What Harry had been trying to ask suddenly dawned on her, and she touched his arm gently. "And you want to know if he'll end up hurting her." Harry looked up expectantly, a softness in his eyes that Hermione knew was an indication of something more than mere concern for Ginny, but his uncertain look sparked a cynicism in her; and she rolled her eyes. "What did you _think_ I was going to say? Tom's a perfect gentleman when it comes to women he's fond of."

"Good," Harry sighed. He was both relieved and disappointed, but he desperately hoped the latter of the two didn't show on his face.

Hermione frowned. "Harry?"

_Typical, concerned Hermione._ "It's nothing, Hermione," he assured her.

Hermione eyed him. "If you say so."

"You haven't had any tea yet, and I've got a pot of stew on the stove," Harry announced, brightening. "Why don't you come down and have a bite to eat?"

Hermione smiled. "I'd like that. Let me just get cleaned up first."

-----

Ginny stared at the spot where Tom had been standing before he had dashed out of the room for at least a full minute. Finally, she eased herself into the loveseat, clasping her hands together.

Something about Tom had changed since he had left Ginny and Harry in the kitchen; he had acted almost_ afraid_ of her. She sighed. Maybe she had jumped the gun when she had made up her mind to kiss Tom in the restroom. Perhaps she had judged him favorably before she had had time to see the real him. Frankly, she had snogged more than a few creeps in her lifetime, not that she was a floozy or anything; she just supposed she was very gullible, and she hated it.

There was also something about Harry that had been off since the "loo incident." He had gone from cheerful host Harry to cold, distant Harry. The transformation was mind-boggling, and from what Ginny had seen, Tom was puzzled, too.

The wooden floor of the hallway outside the sitting room creaked, and Ginny turned to see who was entering the room.

Tom scuttled through the doorway, still looking ruffled. He turned and met her gaze, jumping in surprise. "Uh, hi, Ginny," he greeted quickly, sounding breathless. Truth be told, it had been all he could do not to sprint down the stairs and away from Harry. He gestured toward the kitchen. "Harry asked me to check on the stew."

Ginny stood up, barely managing to mask her frown, and followed him through the door. "Tom, is something the matter?" she asked as he leaned over the large brewing pot on the stove.

Tom looked up at her. He really wanted to be honest, but . . . "It's really rather ridiculous." Ginny stared at him. "It's nothing." He could tell she didn't buy it. "Honestly, I'm just . . . a bit tired." She was still staring at him skeptically. "Jetlag?" he offered hopefully.

"Tom, you didn't fly here. Now, tell me what's wrong," Ginny demanded, folding her arms over her chest.

Tom had to admire how persistent she was; it was something they had in common, and knowing how he hated to be turned away after poking his nose into the business of others, he closed his eyes, preparing for how much he was going to sound like an idiot.

The kitchen door squeaked open, and Harry peered around it, into the kitchen. He spotted the pair and silently noted the incensed look on Ginny's face. "Am I interrupting something?" he asked cautiously.

Ginny lowered her arms to her sides and exhaled laboriously. "Not at all," she hissed, shooting a cursory glare at Tom, who cringed.

Harry looked subtly pleased as he proceeded to enter the room, and Tom's vision again began to blur.

**A/N: Think about it this way; if I hadn't given you this cliffie, you wouldn't have gotten a chapter either. Heh. I had to end it _somewhere_. And is it just me, or is Harry being a BIT obvious about his sudden resentment toward Tom? I dunno. Just a thought.**


	15. Getting Answers

**A/N: Sorry it took so long for an update, but this chapter was hard to write, and the end wasn't quite as I planned . . . but definitely better than what I had. Enjoy.**

**Chapter 15**

**Getting Answers**

The corridor was white, sterile white. Once again, Tom saw two people, both of whom looked very familiar: Harry and Ginny.

Ginny had her arms wrapped around Harry's neck and was hugging him tightly. Harry had a bandage in the center of his forehead, and he had his eyes closed, as if savoring the moment.

Ginny pulled back, tears glistening in her eyes. "Thank you _so_ much, Harry," she whispered, grabbing his hands. "I know I act like I hate him sometimes, but . . . he's my brother, and if he hadn't made it-" Her voice cracked, and her eyes fell to the floor.

"You don't have to thank me. He's my best friend . . ." Harry stared at her, looking to be bracing himself for something. "Gin . . . about . . . us . . ."

"Tom! You aren't even listening to me!" Ginny snapped, causing Tom to shake his head and return to the present.

"_About us"? What about them? God, I need to talk to Hermione!_ "Huh?" he asked.

"I was asking you to get the bowls. Harry can't do _everything_ himself, you know," Ginny said frigidly.

Harry observed the pair, feeling a bit bad for Tom. He had hated enduring Ginny's bad moods. "It's fine, Gin," he offered, trying to give Tom a break. It wasn't his fault that Harry was a jealous person._"Gin"? I need to finish that vision!_ "I can get the bowl . . ." Harry's voice faded into oblivion. _Yes!_

Ginny's eyes snapped up, meeting Harry's. "What about us, Harry?"

"Well, the war's over, and I . . ." Harry gazed into her eyes.

"You . . ." she prompted.

"I wanted to know if you'd like to-"

"Stop _ignoring_ me, Tom!" Ginny shoved Tom to get his attention.

Tom winced. She was really angry now. "Sorry! I'm just a little bit preoccupied."

Harry was ogling them, more so Tom; he was acting _very_ strangely.

"A bit preoccupied with _what_?" Ginny was becoming frantic, tears stinging at her eyes.

Tom didn't like how things were going, not at all. "I have a lot on my mind." It was time to put the sappiest phrase he had ever heard used by the lustful being of man into use because he didn't want to see Ginny cry. "I'm just so . . . shocked that a girl as wonderful as you would pick a guy like . . . like me." He met her eyes.

Ginny took a deep breath, her gaze going from stone cold fury to warm delight. "Really?"

Tom spotted Harry glaring at him out of the corner of his eye but continued his flirtatious ruse. "_Of course_. I've been so busy trying to figure that out that I . . . I wasn't enjoying the time I do have with you as much as I should have been." At least he wasn't entirely lying. He reached out for her hand, holding it gently. "You're brilliant," he said, his voice just above a whisper.

Ginny smiled, about to lean in for a kiss.

"Hermione's here!" Harry announced loudly, more than a hint of relief in his voice. Tom watched him curiously. Then, his words registered. _Hermione!_

Hermione was walking through the kitchen door, smiling.

Tom turned to Ginny. "I need to speak with Hermione for a moment, but I'll be back." He winked, and she giggled. "Hermione! We need to talk."

Hermione looked at him; she had seen his and Ginny's near-display of affection and Harry's reaction. "All right," she agreed, allowing him to take her elbow and lead her into the hallway.

As soon as the door closed, Tom turned to her. "Why didn't you _tell_ me Ginny used to date Harry?" he asked in a hushed voice.

"I didn't think it would matter." Hermione eyed his bruising face. "What happened to you?"

"I had a run-in with your _boyfriend_-By the way, he definitely loves you," Tom added as an afterthought. "But, Hermione, this is ser-"

"What do you mean, 'he definitely loves me'?" Hermione interrupted. "How do you know?"

"He said so. Now, really, I'm horribly afraid that Harry is going to put a spell on me or something because I've started something with Ginny," Tom continued.

"Well, he is rather protective of her," Hermione declared. "When did Ron say this? And to you, of all people."

"I can't recall if it was _before_ or _after_ he smashed my face in, but it was somewhere around then," Tom mused. "I really do like Ginny though, but Harry's a war hero, wizard, and if he wants her back-"

"He didn't _really_ say that; did he, Tom?" Hermione interjected uncertainly.

"Yes, he did. I swear, but I honestly need your help! What do I do?"

"Just keep doing whatever you've been doing; if Harry has any serious feelings, he'll admit them eventually," Hermione advised, thinking about what Tom had said about Ron, and _only_ about what Tom had said about Ron.

Tom exhaled. "All right . . . It's just . . . I feel so helpless being a . . . muggle surrounded by magic I can't even begin to understand," he confessed.

"You've got a bit of magic, yourself, seer," Hermione assured him, using the taboo term freely for the benefit of her closest friend as she reached up and patted his cheek proudly.

Tom grinned. That was, he grinned until he spotted Ron entering the hallway. "Uh-oh. I'd better, uh, get back to Ginny before she hollers at me again," he said quickly.

"You two had a row already?" Hermione laughed, unaware of Ron walking toward them.

"Yes, but it's better now. I'll just let you two be." Tom ducked into the kitchen.

"Let who-"

"Good afternoon," Ron greeted, giving Hermione a lopsided smile as she spun on her heel to face him.

She mentally cursed her traitorous stomach for doing its ever-so familiar flip at the mere sound of his voice. "Likewise," she agreed curtly.

Ron frowned, noting her change in disposition. "What's wrong?"

"I hear you attacked a defenseless muggle, who happens to be my good friend," Hermione stated.

"Oh, so this is about _Tom_, is it?" Ron rejoined, a scowl adorning his features.

"No, Ron, it's about _you_. You had _no_ reason to punch him; now, did you?"

"Well, I-"

"_No_, Ron. This is _ridiculous_! You can't just _hate_ Tom for no reason at _all_. What is your _problem_?" Hermione demanded, stepping closer to him.

"My problem? _My _problem? I'm not the one who goes from 'Boy, Ron, I sure missed you.' to 'Ron, I couldn't hate you more!'!" Ron retorted, moving forward so their noses were almost touching.

"And _why_ is my sudden change in temperament a problem, Ron?" Hermione asked irritably. "Especially considering what _you've_ done to completely alter it!"

"It's a problem because I-because I don't like it when you're angry with me!" Ron exclaimed, clenching his fists at his sides.

Hermione's breath caught in her throat. "And why is that?" she asked hoarsely, realizing with a start how close they were standing.

Ron must have noticed this certain fact, as well, given that his eyes darkened to a navy color, and he took on a decidedly nervous air. "Because . . . because I . . . uh . . . because I'm-"

"Tea's ready," Harry announced, poking his head into the corridor. A look of apprehension crossed his features as Ron and Hermione hurriedly moved away from one another, both blushing furiously. "Er . . . Did I interrupt something?"

Hermione watched Ron's gaze fall to his feet. "No," she said weakly. She cleared her throat. "No. We were just about to join you." She hastily glanced and Ron again before pushing past Harry and into the kitchen.

"Coming in for tea, Ron?" Harry asked, a mixture of concern and laughter in his voice.

Ron ran a hand over his face, feeling ultimately mortified. "Sure."

**A/N: Oh, the tension. I just _love_ it! Bwah!**


	16. Tea and Stew

**A/N: I'm finding it harder and harder to get chapters written, not because I have writer's block-I'm actually quite inspired for this particular story-, but because I have to share the only writing computer we have with my obnoxious younger brother, not to mention the fact that it's our business computer, so my parents have to use it, as well. Therefore, forgive me if I can't update as quickly as we'd all like. But now! Enjoy!**

**Chapter 16**

**Tea and Stew**

Ron had only agreed to tea because he had been relatively thirsty, but had he known that Tom and Ginny had randomly become some sick, twisted couple and that Hermione would refuse to even look at him after, and probably because of, their near incident in the hallway-he still couldn't believe he had chickened out-, he would have declined Harry's offer immediately upon receiving it.

Hermione was raptly paying attention to something Harry was saying, though Harry seemed to be much more preoccupied with Tom and Ginny being all over one another while the quintet sat around the large, wooden kitchen table.

Ron cleared his throat, causing the aforementioned couple to look at him. He tried to remain calm, the image of Tom kissing Hermione only the night before still fresh on his mind. "Er, how did this . . ." He gestured vaguely at Tom and Ginny, and glanced at Hermione, who was watching the conversation warily. ". . . _union_ occur?"

Ginny scowled at him. "Well, after you so _characteristically_ walloped poor Tom in the face, I took it upon myself to help stop the _bleeding_." She granted him an accusatory glare. "And the rest . . . is history." She cast Tom an adoring gaze.

Ron raised an eyebrow, and another glance told him Harry was listening intently now, as well. "What do you mean 'the rest is history'? You couldn't just help a bloke clean up his bloodied face without becoming his-his _lover_?"

Ginny narrowed her eyes. "Of course I could! But I chose _not_ to, in this case, and everything's working out perfectly! Isn't it, Tom?" She ran a hand down Tom's arm, smiling up at him.

Tom smiled brightly. "Yes, perfectly," he agreed, avoiding Harry's gaze.

Ron snorted skeptically.

"_I_ think they make a _lovely_ couple," Hermione offered, nudging Harry slightly.

Harry glanced at her, knowing that he was supposed to concur, but certainly not wanting to. He conceded and pushed a smile into effect, nodding vigorously. "Impeccable match."

Ron looked mildly irritated. "Of course, no one bothers to note that they've only known each other for a _day_," he mentioned, looking at Ginny pointedly.

"At least _we_ can actually voice our feelings within a timely manner," Ginny retorted smugly.

"And _what_ do you mean by _that_?" Ron asked indignantly.

Tom opened his mouth to say something, but Hermione kicked him under the table, knowing exactly where this conversation was heading. _"Ouch!"_ he mouthed at her, grinning shrewdly, and she rolled her eyes.

"Harry, whatever happened to Fred and George last night?" she asked, intent on completely changing the subject.

"They had to get back to the shop to arrange shipments," Harry replied. "They said they might come back later today, if they get the chance. They _loved_ their muggle test subject," he quipped, giving Tom a grin.

"I can't say I didn't enjoy it, as well," Tom said reminiscently.

Ginny laughed. "Well, don't tell _them_ that. They'll use you until you're completely afraid of wizards in any form!"

Ron sighed. Everyone just _adored_ Tom. "When's the stew going to be ready?" he asked.

Harry glanced at his muggle wristwatch. "In about five minutes."

------

_I need to finish that vision._ "This stew is delicious," Tom complimented, smiling at Harry politely before taking another bite of the steaming mixture.

"Thank you, Tom," Harry replied, managing to keep the majority of the coldness from his voice.

"Hermione," Ginny began, swallowing. "look at Ron." Hermione gave her a questioning look before turning to view Ron, who was in mid-bite but watching Ginny confusedly. "He eats like a human being!" she exclaimed proudly. "All _my_ doing," she boasted.

"Excuse me," Harry said. "_I_ helped."

"Yes, but only a _female_ could truly teach a pigheaded man his table manners," Ginny stated, as if it was obvious that she was responsible for Ron's behavior. Ron glared at her.

"I beg to differ," Harry replied, cracking a somewhat teasing grin.

Hermione raised her eyebrows. "Well, it is quite an amazing feat, either way," she agreed, returning to her stew.

Tom stood up abruptly. "Excuse me," he said formally.

Ginny grabbed his hand as she got an idea. She pulled him down to her height. "Harry and I'll tell them about your 'surprise party'," she whispered in his ear quickly before letting him go.

Tom flashed his teeth at her charmingly as he straightened. "Lovely," he said, meaning to make it sound as though he was talking about her. He strode out of the kitchen and into the sitting room.

_Now, to get back to that vision._ Tom sat down in a chair, rubbing his temples. His powers didn't usually work when he tried to force them, but that was just it; he had to try.

Had Harry and Ginny gotten back together after the war? What had been the "complications" in Ron's resurrection? Why was Hermione so distraught about his surviving? There were so many questions to be answered; his curiosity was killing him; and since no one here was going to tell him the answers, he'd have to go about getting them his own way.

Unfortunately, his endeavors were proving quite fruitless at the moment.

-------

"Harry and I have something to announce," Ginny publicized happily, clasping her hands in front of her on the table.

Harry stared at her. "We do?"

Ron and Hermione's gaze met across the length of the table, and Ron shrugged, giving her a soft smile. Her cheeks went warm, and she looked away.

"Yes. _You_ _know_! The _plan_!" Ginny exclaimed, dropping her voice to a whisper and leaning forward conspiratorially.

Harry furrowed his brows before realizing. "_Oh_, right; _that_ plan. Should you tell them, or should I?"

"Well, I'd like it if _one_ of you would tell us soon," Ron said as a way of moving the conversation along.

"Tom mentioned that his birthday is this Saturday," Harry began, still wanting to set his two best friends up, even if it meant he had to assist Ginny in throwing a party for her new boyfriend.

"So, we're throwing him a surprise party!" Ginny hissed, trying to keep the fake, but somewhat real, excitement out of her voice.

Ron gawked at them. "You're kidding," he said, certain this nightmare he was having couldn't be this bad.

Ginny glowered at him. "Of course not! Plus, it'd be an _excellent_ way to celebrate Muggle Appreciation Day! We could have an entirely muggle party, since we can't use magic."

"I hate that holiday," Ron grumbled.

"Ron!" Hermione snapped. She actually thought it had been rather classy-though not very effective-of wizard kind to establish a day honoring muggles-though they wouldn't know about it-to make up for Voldemort's damage, after the war had ended, approximately three years ago. Ron, however, still thought it was utterly ridiculous that they had made magic completely impossible for twenty four hours on June 26, every year.

"What? I _do_!" Ron replied innocently.

"We just thought we'd let you two in on our plot so you can be prepared for whatever tasks we may have for you," Ginny said cheerily.

"We were also planning on taking Tom out for a night on the town, this evening," Harry added.

Hermione was now eyeing them suspiciously. "Why?" she asked.

"Because they love him," Ron muttered under his breath.

"What was that, Ron?" Ginny asked perceptively. Ron didn't reply. "Because we want to show him what witches and wizards do for fun," she explained, waving a hand in the air dismissively.

Hermione nodded in understanding and went back to her stew contemplatively. There had to be something to Harry and Ginny's sudden plans.

"So it's settled then! Tonight, we hit Diagon Alley," Ginny announced happily, meeting Harry's gaze and smiling. This was going to be fun.

**A/N: I want to thank all of you who review. I love every single response I get. Thank you _so_ much, readers and, especially, reviewers. **


	17. Royal Gits

**A/N: It's going to be harder for me to update after this chapter because school is starting again in about a week. Sophomore year. –sigh- This chapter took me so long to post because I had to finish my book report on Flowers for Algernon, and I had to read the worst book _ever_, The Grapes of Wrath. So, I apologize to those of you who have been waiting patiently for my update.**

**Chapter 17**

**Royal Gits**

Tom felt like he had been sitting in the living area for an eternity waiting for this vision to pop back into his head. He couldn't quite place why he was so intent on finding out what had happened between Ginny and Harry. He didn't even know what he would end up doing if they _had_ reunited. It was all in the past, though Harry obviously still felt . . . _something_ for Ginny, even if he wasn't about to admit it.

Tom leaned forward, resting his head in his upturned palms. _What am I doing?_ he asked himself. He didn't belong here, with Hermione and _her_ friends, with Harry and _his_ former love, with Ron and _his_ . . . problems. He was a muggle, caught up in something he just didn't get. Why Hermione had invited him, he couldn't say, and why he had accepted was even more puzzling.

He looked up at the fireplace, around which the seating in the room had been centered, and was surprised to find that he couldn't make out the picture above the mantel. His sight was going dark, and he praised the force, from which his powers had come.

Harry looked thoroughly nervous as he gazed into Ginny's hopeful-looking eyes. "I wanted to know if you'd like to . . . pick up where we left off," he admitted, smiling sheepishly.

Ginny beamed back, and then looked down at their interlaced fingers, as if embarrassed. "Harry, you're so . . . perfect." Her eyes flew back to his, warm and inviting, but at the same time, cautious, as if she was living a dream and could wake up at any moment. "I was so . . . worried that you would . . . that by the time the war was over it would be too . . . too late. And now that . . . you're here, alive, and confessing that you still want insignificant Ginny Weasley, after all this time, I just . . . Harry, I lo-"

"Mr. Potter," a man in white robes called as he approached from a room adjacent to the pair. "Miss Weasley, Mr. Weasley has woken up, but we're afraid he . . . Well, you should come see for yourself."

Harry shot Ginny a worried glance and pulled her into the room after the man. There, they saw Ron, lying in a bed, looking confused.

Ron's mouth moved, but no sound came out, and the room was already spinning into a blur.

Tom groaned. He wasn't going to get anymore answers out of that vision; apparently, he really, really wasn't meant to. Unfortunately, he was even more confused than before, but at least now he could be almost certain that Ginny had, at one point, loved Harry. _It's not as if she was about to say "Harry, I lobbed Ron in the head several times before the war." Not during that situation._

"Tom?" Ginny asked, poking her head out of the kitchen. "You've been in here for quite a while. Is everything all right?"

Tom stood up, grinning enchantingly. "I just wanted to give you and Harry enough time," he explained.

"Well, your stew is getting cold," Ginny said with good cheer, letting him pass her to go back into the kitchen.

Hermione eyed him suspiciously as he entered, rising to put her empty bowl in the sink and rinse it out.

_She knows. Damn. Of course, Hermione's too smart to be tricked into confessing her feelings._ Tom sat down in front of his meal, trying not to look guilty of conspiring.

Ginny placed her hands on his shoulders. "We're going to Diagon Alley tonight," she informed him.

Tom paused with his spoon in front of his mouth. "Uh . . . where is that?"

"Essentially, it's a strip mall for wizards," Hermione explained shortly, still looking distrustful.

"In London," Ron added helpfully, trying his best to be pleasant, for Hermione's sake, though his scowl overrode that endeavor.

Ginny smiled brightly. "We want to show you a center of wizard culture," she said, squeezing his shoulders adoringly.

Harry rose abruptly, taking his dishes to the sink. "It should be great fun," he stated halfheartedly.

-------

Ron had slipped out of the kitchen, declaring that he had some Ministry papers to work on, and, despite Harry's disapproving look upon his departure, hadn't returned since.

He sat on his bed, allowing Bugger to nuzzle against his outstretched hand as he stared at the wall. There was so much he wanted to say, but there was also so much he knew he _couldn't_ say; at least, not yet. Hermione was . . . wonderful, in every way, except for the fact that she was as stubborn as he was, meaning she was as stubborn as a mule. He loved that about her, of course, as he loved everything about her, but he knew it was keeping her from allowing him to say what he felt, and possibly from allowing her to say what she felt.

Ron heard his name being called, but he didn't respond.

Their past was a clouded one, especially considering his state after the war. Perhaps she had said nothing about her feelings because she feared he was a changed man. Then again, Ron couldn't be sure she had feelings that needed to be shared, since she was so against sharing them or showing them.

His name was sounded again, and, again, he ignored it entirely.

But in the hallway just an hour or so before, he had come so close to telling her, so close to stuttering his way into confession. If only Harry hadn't interrupted. **_You still could have said something, you know. It's not _Harry's_ fault. _You_ could have been courageous and admitted your love, even if Harry was standing right there, being a nuisance._**_ Very true. It _is_ all my fault. _

"Bugger, I'm a complete git," Ron announced aloud, running his hand over the length of the tiny feline's spine.

"You've got that right," a muffled voice agreed from outside Ron's bedroom door.

"What do you want, Ginny?" Ron snapped, irritated at being disturbed.

"I want you to know that if you don't get your arse out of this room this instant, we're leaving without you," Ginny barked back, trying the doorknob to find it to be locked. "Everyone else is ready, so hurry up."

Ron sighed, not keen on going but wanting to keep an eye on Tom, since no one else would notice if he happened to be evil, seeing as they all esteemed him so very much. "Fine. I'll be down soon."  
"Hurry," Ginny repeated curtly.

------------

Tom handed Hermione her faded denim bucket hat from her suitcase and glanced at her solemn face. "Is something-"

"What'd you put them up to?" Hermione demanded quickly.

Tom feigned innocence. "What are you talking about?" he asked, a look of befuddlement on his face.

Hermione watched him for any sign of blameworthiness as she put on her hat. "Why would Harry and Ginny suddenly make plans to go out when we had previously planned to stay in and chat?"

Tom raised his eyebrows. "How would I know? I assumed it was because they wanted me to understand more about you 'magic people'." He cracked an inoffensive grin.

Hermione folded her arms over her chest and approached him vigilantly. She stood close to him, staring deeply and skeptically into his eyes. She shifted her hand and poked him in the chest warningly with her forefinger. "You don't fool me, Mr. Nielsen," she proclaimed gravely.

"Ginny said you were already ready," Ron's voice said from the doorway, an accusing note making it sound harsh.

Hermione's head snapped in his direction rapidly, and the confidence she felt when talking to her best friend faltered as she saw the flame in Ron's eyes. "We were just-"

"Talking," Tom finished quickly, stepping away from Hermione, who had been standing rather near in her previous attempt to intimidate him.

Ron's eyes were jumbles of mixed emotion, but most of all, they held an indignant flame and perhaps a twinge of . . . anguish? "Right," he muttered, turning away before he could get angry with her and Tom. This second incident only fostered his suspicion of their secret relationship.

Hermione lowered herself onto her bed, blinking back tears of frustration as his footsteps receded down the hall. Everything was difficult with Ron. He just had to be so elusive but painfully blunt all at once. "He thinks we're . . ."

Tom nodded shortly, pulling a baseball cap out of his duffel bag. "Funny, isn't it?"

"No. It's _awful_. He always . . . does the strangest things or comes up with the most unlikely ideas when it comes to me . . . Did I ever tell you about sixth year?" Hermione asked sadly, straightening her hat.

Tom thought for a moment. "Not that I recall. Other than Dumballdoor-"

"Yes, Dumbledore. But before that . . . I . . . Well, it was just before Professor Slughorn's Christmas Party, and I . . . made the mistake of . . . Actually, it was more of a way to get him to shut up about me possibly 'hooking up' with a self-obsessed Quidditch addict, but I told Ron I was going to ask him to go with me to the party. Of course, he reacted very poorly, by snogging Lavender Brown, a complete tart, who was in our house, after a Quidditch game. How I hated her after that. Honestly, why would he begin dating someone else, after he knew I must have fancied him, if only the _slightest_ bit?"

"Maybe he was afraid," Tom offered, his voice consoling.

"Afraid of what? Me?" Hermione asked confusedly.

Tom sighed, sitting next to her and placing a hand on her shoulder reassuringly. "Hermione, it's time I let you in on this secret, worldly information." Hermione watched him expectantly. "Men . . . are complete imbeciles."

Hermione smiled wanly, letting out a small laugh. "Tom, you have no idea."

Tom chuckled. "We'd better get downstairs. London awaits." He stood and offered her his hand. "And don't worry. Ron'll come to. Even if he is a royal git."

**A/N: So, Tom finished his vision, technically, but he didn't get all the information he wanted. He's exceptionally nosey, I find. -grins- I hope I can get another chapter or two out before school starts, but I might not be able to. Stay tuned though. I'll try my best to update regularly.**


	18. Magic Alley

**A/N: Argh. Just got through my first day of school. Actually, it was fun, but I'm just glad I was able to get another chapter written. I do adore this story, you know. It's my baby. **

**Chapter 18**

**Magic Alley**

Tom emerged from the fireplace, doubled over and choking on the ashen air.

"First time on the floo?" a woman with twisted, black hair falling to her waste inquired almost mockingly as she passed him.

"Yes," Tom gasped, taking deep breaths. Though Hermione had explained that he would be wise not to inhale during his travel from Number 12 Grimmauld Place to the Leaky Cauldron, he hadn't been able to keep himself from air that long.

He felt a hand clapping him on the back and looked around to see Harry grinning down at him affably. "Same thing happened to me, my first time," he admitted with a chuckle.

Tom smiled back. Perhaps he had imagined Harry's jealousy.

Ginny coughed once as she strode onto the hearth, and her eyes laughingly fell on Tom, who was still trying to clear his throat.

Again, Harry's frosty demeanor returned, thus proving that Tom had been entirely correct in his conclusion about his envy.

Ron stepped from the green-tinted flames and brushed the ash from his cotton robes.

Hermione arrived finally, coughing and accepting Ron's offered hand as she entered the room. She got her footing and met Ron's eyes briefly before letting go of him, her cheeks glowing pink.

The group headed past the bar into a small courtyard, and Harry began tapping the bricks on one wall with his wand.

Tom furrowed his brows. "What is he-" The bricks shook, and Tom took a step back as they began creating a large arc in the wall. "Hermione . . ."

Ginny laughed at Tom's shocked expression as the bricks stilled. She grabbed his hand and pulled him after the others down the cobblestone path beyond the opening. He whipped his head around in time to see the last brick move back into place and blinked confusedly.

They followed the path until they came upon a large crowd of milling witches and wizards.

"Welcome to Diagon Alley," Harry announced.

-------

Ron halted in front of the quidditch shop, gazing up at the brooms. Ginny and Harry had taken Tom into the apothecary across the heavily-populated street to see the odds and ends used for making potions, and Hermione was standing next to Ron silently, staring apathetically at the goods within the shop.

Ron glanced at her, exhaling. "We could-uh-go to the new Flourish and Blotts if you want," he proposed quietly.

Hermione stole a look at him and then turned to stare down the street to the rebuilt bookstore. "I'd like that," she replied, "but we should tell Harry where we're going."

Ron nodded, looking forward to being able to spend even the smallest amount of time alone, with Hermione. They crossed the way and entered Aundry's Apothecary, which smelled overpoweringly of herbs, various dead animals, and a mix of other relatively unpleasant scents.

Ginny and Tom were huddled over a jar of particularly grisly-looking ingredients, while Harry hovered nearby, trying to look enthusiastic. Ginny giggled, pointing at something in the glass bottle, and Tom made faces of abhorrence to continue her laughter.

Ron and Hermione approached Harry, but before they could voice their plan, Ginny looked up and spotted them. "There you two are! We wondered where you'd run off to," she exclaimed. "We should go show Tom Fred and George's shop!"

Ron attempted to keep of disappointment from his face. So much for his quality time with Hermione.

Hermione smiled wanly, never having much liked Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes. "Why don't you all show him?" she suggested. "I'd actually like to take a spin around the new bookstore."

"I'll go with you," Harry said quickly, anxious to get away from the happy couple.

"Well, maybe we should all go," Ginny stated, giving Harry a curious look.

Tom nodded. "It's fine with me."

Ron shrugged, and the troupe was off.

Tom smiled contentedly as Ginny laced her fingers through his, and he glanced casually at Hermione, who appeared to be absentmindedly gripping the sleeve of Ron's robes to keep from getting lost in the throng of shopping magic folk. Though she apparently didn't notice what she was doing, Ron most certainly did, judging by his nervous expression.

Tom perceived an unfamiliar emotion welling up inside him, and his smile grew. He wasn't sure why he suddenly felt so cheerful, but he had a strong feeling it had something to do with Hermione's happiness fluttering so near to her, in the form of a stubborn, ginger-haired man.

His eyes drifted away from his best friend and her love, to the shop window of a store bearing the name Flourish and Blotts. Within the panes of glass, books of ridiculously large proportions were propped upright, their tonnage appearing to be enough to crush a good-sized man. "Wow . . ."

"What? Muggles don't have books?" Ginny asked jokingly, squeezing his hand.

"We have books . . . just not . . . books the size of . . . ovens."

Ginny laughed melodiously as they entered the store.

Tom gawked at the towering shelves, stacked to the ceiling with books of all shapes, sizes, and consistencies. "This is brilliant," he whispered in awe.

"And to think you wouldn't even know it was here if you didn't know a witch," Harry added from just behind him.

"Let's show him the picture books, Harry!" Ginny put forward excitedly, already dragging Tom to the children's section of the store, with Harry lagging behind dolefully.

Ron had inevitably wandered into the quidditch section and was browsing the line of reading material when a chipper voice sounded beside him. "I see you like quidditch; I'm a big fan, as well."

Ron looked up to see a busty blonde grinning at him. "Oh, really?" he asked curiously.

"Definitely. I was seeker on my school team," she informed him.

Ron gave her an impressed look before acknowledging what he recalled to be his own place on his former team.

Across the store, Hermione stood beside Tom and Ginny as they flipped through a picture book. Tom was amazed at how the pictures moved, spoke, and interacted with the reader. "This is brilliant," he repeated for about the billionth time, turning the page. He glanced up from his book and spotted Hermione glaring daggers into the back of a certain voluptuous blonde, who was chatting with a seemingly enthusiastic Ron.

Tom leaned into her slightly. "_I'd_ say Ron needs more books on muggle liaison," he murmured in her ear. Hermione looked at him confusedly. Tom tipped his baseball cap to her and suggestively nudged her in the direction of the muggle-charming area.

"We won almost all of our games during the season," the woman boasted, pausing for perhaps the first time since she had begun speaking to Ron. "I'm Ophelia." She held out her hand to him, flashing her teeth.

"I'm Ron-"

"Ronald!" Ron's head snapped in the direction of his curly-haired friend as she approached, a large book weighing her down. "There you are! I've been looking all over for you. I found this memory modification book that you might like to read."

Hermione struggled under the load of the text, and Ron quickly turned from Ophelia to take the book from her, though he certainly didn't want to read it. "Er, thanks," he said, glancing at where Ophelia had been standing, but she had whisked across the store to confront a man near the potions books. He looked back to Hermione, but she was trying to get her breath back. "That was Ophelia," he said boldly, watching her expression change from chaste exhaustion to something like disgust.

"Lovely," she gasped. "You really should read that book. It might help you get promoted." With that, she spun on her heel and headed back to muggle Tom. Ron watched her go with mixed feelings of satisfaction and confusion, wondering if she had brought him the book just to get him to stop talking to the attractive woman, who outwardly had nothing better to do than pick up men in the bookstore. He felt a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he looked down at the book in his hands. How to Modify Memories. Hermione must have known that Ron would have already learned anything this book could possibly teach him in his Muggle Liaison classes at the Ministry. Perhaps his hastily formed theory was correct.

---------

"What on Earth are those?" Tom stared in wonder at the tiny pink and purple balls of fluff inside the glass cubicle near the center of Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes.

"Pygmy puffs," Ginny informed him with a smile. "Aren't they _adorable_?" she cooed.

Ron snorted. "Yea. Nauseatingly."

Harry chuckled, despite Ginny's glower.

"What are they . . . made of?" Tom asked.

"Anything that makes up your common puffskein, except smaller," a voice explained from behind the group.

"I see you decided to show dearest Tommy our wonderful supply of joke products in bulk," an identical voice noted as they turned to see the infamous twins' twin grins.

"It's amazing," Tom complimented, though he actually found it more disturbing than amazing. Ron subtly rolled his eyes.

"Why, thank you," Fred and George said unanimously, both giving him low bows.

"Would you like a puff?" one of them asked as they straightened.

"We could give you a discount," the other added.

Tom looked back at the tiny . . . animals and slowly shook his head. "No, thanks," he replied, glancing at Hermione, who had her arms folded across her chest and was pursing her lips irritably. "We should probably get going, too," he supplemented, for her benefit.

Ginny nodded in agreement. "It looked like a storm was coming when we were out earlier."

"Well, don't hesitate to come back another time," the twins said, following them all to the door to see them off.

Indeed, it was now pouring outside, the last rays of daylight twinkling about the premises. The people in the alley had cleared in light of the rain, either by apparation or packing into the various shops to wait for the storm to pass, so the group had an easy travel from 93 Diagon Alley to the Leaky Cauldron.

Ginny skipped along merrily, twirling in the rain and giggling at Tom's continuous antics, while Ron held his robes over his head, to keep from getting soaked, repeatedly asking Hermione, who was walking next to him, if she'd like to join him under his robes, which she declined, ignoring how vulgar the innocent offer sounded.

Everyone seemed to have paired off, but the world-renowned Harry Potter was left strolling at the back of the procession, by himself, until they reentered the now empty inn and sat down at a booth near a corner of the room, unheeding of the glares they received from a haggard woman behind the bar, who was most likely the witch who would have to clean up the sopping trail they had left in their wake.

Everyone was shaking cold, and Ginny promptly ordered a round of butterbeer to warm them up before they flooed back to Grimmauld Place.

They made useless small talk through chattering teeth as they waited for their drinks, ignoring the tension that had grown between certain parties over the past two days, and Hermione ran a hesitant hand through her tangled, dripping hair.

"Finally!" Ron exclaimed as the bartender signaled that their drinks were ready, and he and Ginny, who sat on the outside of one side of the booth sprung up to get the brews.

They returned to their company and set the frothing mugs on the table. Hermione took one quickly and downed the beverage, giving in to one last shiver before warmth overtook her.

Ron did the same, and the others followed, all except Tom, who was staring warily at the remaining glass. "Uh . . . What is it?" he inquired carefully.

"Butterbeer," Hermione declared, giving him a look that indicated she'd mentioned it to him before.

Ginny began a game of footsie with Tom from where she sat opposite him, smiling sweetly. "It's guaranteed to warm you up."

"It won't kill you to try some," Harry said, an undertone of impatience riddling his voice.

Tom grabbed the mug, watching it as if it could jump out and bite him at any moment. After a final reassuring look from Hermione, who was sitting at his right, he guzzled the beverage, his eyes growing wide at the thawing sensation it sent into his body. He sighed in relief and grinned as the cold seeped from his limbs. "Wicked . . ."

Ginny laughed, and Ron scoffed silently.

"I imagine this is the drink Fred and George served at those parties they used to throw?" Tom asked Ron, having heard about the victory parties Hermione detested and figuring the twins' rambunctious, younger brother would know the most about them.

Ron looked at him confusedly, as if he knew but didn't know what exactly he was talking about. He looked at Harry, who sat next to him on the inside of the booth, for help.

Harry met Ginny's gaze around Ron, a worried look in his eyes. "Um, yes, they brought butterbeer," Ginny replied, biting her lower lip.

Tom frowned, particularly at Ron, who was staring at Hermione expressively. Hermione refused to meet his gaze and looked, instead, into her mug.

"Er . . . you don't remember?" Tom asked Ron.

Ginny raised her eyebrows. "Oh . . . So, Hermione didn't tell you-"

"Ginny!" Hermione interjected sharply, giving Ginny a forceful, warning look.

Harry was quietly muttering something to Ron, who nodded as if he understood.

"What didn't she tell me, Gin?" Tom queried diligently, noting Harry's scowl at the use of her pet name.

Ginny looked guiltily up at Hermione, who shook her head determinedly. Ron vigilantly watched the latter, his brows drawn together in deep contemplation.

"Ginny?" Tom pressed.

"Nothing . . . I was just . . . Nothing." Ginny uneasily caught Harry's attention. "I'm actually rather worn-out. I think I'll head back." She gave Harry a meaningful look which clearly said, "We need to talk."

"I'll go with you," Harry said swiftly, and Ron stepped out of the booth so he could pass.

Hermione gawked at them as Ron sat down again. "Well, I think we'd _all_ better go back," she cried, not wanting to be left to her own devices with an inquisitive Tom and a . . . Ron.

"No, no. You three stay here and chat. Harry's just going to accompany me back to the house to make sure I get there safely," Ginny justified, yawning for effect.

"I think I'll join you," Tom said, rising with a quick glance at the remaining pair in the booth.

Hermione grabbed his hand almost pleadingly. "Don't go!" she hissed, attempting to pull him back to the seat. He pulled away, still dying to know what she had been keeping from him.

Ginny examined him. "You really don't have to."

"No, I'm fairly exhausted, as well. Besides, I have a call I need to make." Tom hoped Ginny didn't see through his blatant lie.

"Well, all right. We won't wait up," Ginny informed Ron and Hermione, a hint of suggestion in her voice, but before either party could respond, the other three dashed to the fireplace and were speedily back at Grimmauld Place.

Hermione gaped at their retreating figures before turning cautiously to her remaining cohort. "I-ahem-believe they've left us."

Ron nodded wordlessly, surveying her countenance for the answers he needed.

Hermione pulled her lips between her teeth timidly, fiddling with her mug. "Maybe I should order another round of drinks?" Her stomach was aflutter. If only her companions hadn't abandoned her with the man who solely held the power of completely unraveling her normally calm, collected, or bitter emotions.

Ron snapped to at this question and immediately became a nervous wreck. _Typical._ "Er-yea-yes. I mean, if you want to. I'll buy." He offered a smile, though it faltered as Hermione sprung from the table to make their orders. When he was sure she wasn't looking, Ron ran a hand over his face. _**Calm yourself.** I want to know why she didn't tell him-**It doesn't matter.** It does._

Hermione stalled, chatting amiably with the bartender, a gruff-looking, balding man in his forties, who was listening to her anxious blather with a bored, impatient expression. He had to repeat, "Your drinks're ready." at least three times before she got the hint and ruefully headed back to Ron. She sat down opposite him and slid his glass to him, snatching her hand back to her when his fingers brushed hers briefly.

She took a hasty sip of her drink. "Um, so . . . Have you been getting a lot of rain lately?" _Safe, general topic. Can't possibly lead to . . ._

Ron smiled wanly. "Though it's not really the rainy season, yes." _When in doubt, refer to the weather._

"Oh . . ." Hermione drifted into silence again.

_Out with it, Ron. **Remain calm.**_ "So . . . er . . . I thought you told Tom everything," Ron declared.

Hermione looked up briskly. _There it is . . . the subject._ "Whatever gave you that idea?" Maybe she could still avoid the inescapable question.

Ron cocked his head to the side, giving her a cynical look.

Hermione glowered at him. "Well, I don't, for your information."

"Why didn't you tell him that I-"

"Ron!" Hermione interrupted. "_Please_." She was becoming quite tense.

Ron gave her an apologetic look. "You can't deny the past, Hermione. You know that as well as I do."

Hermione glared at the contents of her mug. "I didn't tell him because it doesn't concern him."

Ron raised an eyebrow. "It doesn't?"

Hermione met his gaze frostily. "Ronald, I don't care _what_ you may think about my relationship with Tom because _I_ know that there is absolutely _nothing_ other than platonic love to vouch for. Now, assuming that this discussion is over, I think I'm more than ready to head back to Gri-Harry's house."

"Aw, come on, 'Mione. Have a few more drinks with me?" Ron pouted jokingly.

_A date?_ "Why?" Hermione inquired suspiciously.

"Because you're one of my best friends, and, honestly, I haven't had much time to spend with you lately."

Hermione eyed him, sighing as she gave in. "Well, I suppose it couldn't hurt."

Ron grinned. "You suppose right." He inoffensively knocked back his butterbeer, relieved at having won her over . . . for the time being.

**A/N: Holy crow . . . This chapter just wouldn't _stop_. I mean, I tried to stop writing after . . . page four, but I just couldn't! Ah well. I like the way it turned out, though poor muggle Tom is still completely in the dark. Anyway, I hope this will supplement your eager personas . . . for the time being. -super grin-**


	19. Complicated

**A/N: I am SO sorry it took me so long to update, but last weekend, we had a huge power outage; and then I got sick; and my fish died; and school! I apologize. However, here's Chapter 19. Enjoy!**

**Chapter 19**

**Complicated**

Tom was the last to emerge from the fireplace at Number 12 Grimmauld Place, and when he did so, Harry and Ginny were nowhere to be seen. _Where have they run off to . . ._ Tom needed to do some serious interrogation if he wanted to find out just what his best friend was keeping from him. He stepped into the living area and blinked in surprise as his sight blurred into oblivion.

-------------

Harry staggered onto the hearth, his breath hitching as Ginny latched onto his hand, dragging him away from where Tom would soon be appearing. As if she had mastered the plot to his home, she pulled him into the coat closet on the ground floor, slamming the door and yanking on the overhead light switch. "I thought he was well again!" she cried, her eyes brimming with tears.

"_Silencio_," Harry whispered, pointing his wand at the door. "We can only do so much, Gin. Besides, it's just one memory. He got a lot back, and we filled in the blanks as best we could. Maybe we just missed one."

"But what if he's losing it again? Harry, I don't know if I can take it. It was hard enough the first time." Ginny gave him a desperate look, unintentionally wrenching his heart. How he wanted to rid her of this pain. "We-we sacrificed so much to h-help him . . . I don't know how much I have left to give-" Her voice cracked abruptly, and her countenance crumpled.

"Ginny . . ." Harry watched her breaking down, torn between the sorrow he felt because of her sadness and the distant ache he knew was from the memory of just what they had given up so they could be free to nurture Ron back to health and give him back what he had lost. Carefully, he stepped forward, as much as one could when isolated in a closet with another person, and drew her into his arms. She nestled there, thankful for Harry's understanding. "It's not our fault. We can't help that he forgot everything." _He_ couldn't help feeling that he had failed to notice just how much Ginny cared about her obnoxious, insolent, older brother. His death had probably affected her more than anyone else, with the exceptions of Hermione and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley.

"I know it's not our fault, Harry, but I . . . It's just so complicated."

As they held one another amid the coats and robes, Harry realized that Ginny couldn't have been more correct.

------------

The sitting room came back into focus, and Tom stumbled numbly to a chair, his brain spinning as he tried to process his vision. _This explains_ _it all. I just . . . can't believe Hermione didn't tell me . . . Ron. Forgot. **Everything**! But . . . she said he remembered she loved him . . . Very interesting._ Though Tom had figured out part of the mystery, he knew he still had some serious questions to answer. It dawned on him that Harry and Ginny must have still been huddled together in the dim light of the closet, and he felt something like guilt flood over him. It was obvious Harry stilled loved Ginny, and if Tom had been right in any of his entirely unwarranted assumptions in the past few days, he was certain Ginny felt the same way, if only in a reserved, hidden manner. Another secret of the twisted world of Hermione and her friends revealed . . . _And I'm just getting in the way._

Upon this realization, Tom stood and despondently traipsed up the stairs, passing the aforementioned closet on his way. He reached the room he was staying in and collapsed on the bed. _I'm a guest . . . I'm a guest in their world . . . Brilliant . . . _

-------

"So, as it turned out, this muggle was _stuck_ in the dragon trap!" Ron exclaimed, rejoicing in Hermione's riveted expression.

"_Honestly_? How did you get him out?" she asked laughingly, feeling a bit lightheaded. Perhaps she had had a bit much to drink.

Ron responded to her query, happy just to be getting along with her. They had been sitting in the Leaky Cauldron for almost an hour and a half, chatting like the old friends they were. Both seemed to have reached a silent agreement; Hermione would not mention Tom, and Ron would stay away from the topic of their horribly botched past.

"I swear, this guy screamed bloody murder when we tried to get him out with magic. Of course, that was _before_ he noticed the dragon in the distance."

Hermione's eyes widened. "Oh no . . ."

Ron smirked. "Oh, yes. But, naturally, threatening to use him as dragon bait shut him up well enough, so we-"

"No, Ron. _Look_." Hermione pointed over his shoulder, and he turned to see a brutish-looking man coming in from the courtyard.

"He looks familiar," Ron stated, sending Hermione a questioning gaze.

"He's looking this way!" she squeaked, deftly sliding under the table, so as not to be seen. She tugged Ron's hand urgently. "Don't let him see you!"

Hesitantly, Ron crammed himself under the table, as well. "Who is he?"

"Viktor Krum."

Ron frowned. "The guy you went to that ball with?"

Hermione nodded. "The Yule Ball."

"Then, why are we hiding? I thought . . . Harry said you two were good friends, or pen pals, or something." Ron mentally recalled the jealousy he had felt years ago.

A wave of color washed over Hermione's cheeks, and she stared at the seat of the booth. "We-er-had a falling out."

Ron resisted a satisfied smile. "Oh," he murmured lamely.

Viktor was speaking in low tones to someone now, his voice coming progressively nearer.

"What hap-" Hermione pressed her hand over Ron's mouth, shushing him with a warning look in her eyes.

"Move," she hissed, shuffling forward on all fours until she was just about on top of him, not far from the outside of the booth. She peeked out from under the table, worrying at how close Viktor was standing.

"We could just apparate out of here, you know," Ron whispered in her ear, quite pleased with her flustered reaction at realizing their close proximity.

"I should have thought of that," she mused embarrassedly. "I suppose I'm a bit tipsy."

Ron chuckled, his warm breath raising the hairs on her neck. He grabbed her hand and seemed to pull her impossibly closer, and she silently admitted that she wasn't quite sure whether the knot in her stomach was from apparation or something else entirely.

-----------------------------------------------

Harry sat silently in the living area, trying his best not to think of a certain ginger, who had left him about a half an hour earlier. He regretted ever having agreed that, to avoid confusing Ron, after they had found out the complications of his resurrection, he and Ginny should remain friends, and only friends. Since Ron had mostly recovered, Harry had thought increasingly often of renewing his relationship with his best friend's sister. Alas, he felt she was totally happy with the way things were with her agonizingly numerous boyfriends: no strings attached. And goodness knew he would want the strings; hell, he'd want the whole ball of yarn. He tried not to think about it.

Tom had disappeared by the time Harry and Ginny had emerged from the closet, and, to Harry's knowledge, neither had seen him since; but, for all he knew, Tom could be snogging Ginny's worries away at that very moment. He chose not to think about that either.

There was a _pop_ and a thump in the foyer, and Harry sprung from his seat on reflex, snatching his wand from his pocket. He heard laughter, and his suspicion diminished, though only a little. Warily, he crept to the hallway, peering around the doorjamb, wand raised. He spotted the "intruder" and slowly lowered his weapon, ducking back into the living room with a complacent smirk.

--------------

Hermione burst into laughter as she and Ron landed in a heap on the foyer floor, and Ron joined her, his chortle resonating throughout the room. For that moment, they ignored the fact that Ron thought Hermione was dating Tom, that Hermione was terribly afraid to tell him the truth, that Ron needed some kind of reassurance before he could make any kind of move. Instead of focusing on these unnerving thoughts, they basked in the hilarity of their position, of the fact that they had just been hiding from some ex-boyfriend of Hermione's from years ago, of the fact that they both knew what they were trying to hide from one another but refused to admit it without proper encouragement.

Hermione's tittering, however, was the first to die before all of these things came rushing back to her, and she realized that she and Ron were pressed together on the floor of Harry's dead godfather's house. The anxiety she always felt around the man she loved rose to the surface, and she met his eyes as his guffawing faded.

"What?" he asked, in a low voice, noting her troubled expression.

She could have sworn the warmth in his voice transferred straight to her cheeks, and she tried to hide her discomfiture. Shaking her head made her ever-untamable, curly hair fall forward, nearly into his face, and she moved to get off him. "Nothing," she excused herself, her voice slightly choked.

Ron shifted slightly, as well, and she wound up on her back with him leaning over her, his eyebrows raised. "Really," he stated skeptically.

Hermione's cheeks had gone crimson, and she opened her mouth to speak but couldn't form words. There was something in his eyes that stopped her from trying to get up, something in his inquiring smile that made her heart pound against her ribcage. She felt acutely the solidity of the floor beneath her and repositioned her shoulders, watching Ron's irises go dark blue as she did so.

Their breathing was shallow, and they stared at one another for what seemed like eternity, their faces inching ever closer together.

The floor creaked upstairs, and both Ron and Hermione snapped from their trance, their eyes jerking in the direction of the stairway.

" 'Mione?" a groggy-sounding voice asked, and soon after, Tom, clad in nothing but pajama bottoms appeared at the top of the stairs. His eyes widened as he spotted his best friend on the floor with Ron, and he immediately stepped back into the shadows. "Oh! Sorry. As you were."

Ron knew the muggle was still looking and had half a mind to continue what he had been about to do, if only to spite him, but Hermione was already hurrying to her feet. Ron stood and offered her his hand, listening to the squeak of receding feet on the second story.

Hermione refused to meet his gaze as she straightened her clothes, timidly slipping her hand from his.

"Hermione," Ron whispered, his voice constricted from pent up tension.

Hermione looked up at him. "Good night, Ron," she murmured, standing on her tiptoes to kiss him briefly on the cheek, before she apparated to her room and threw herself onto her bed. Why did everything have to be so complicated?

**A/N: Ergh . . . I annoyed myself. What the bloody hell? Pfft. Anyway, I hope you liked it. I have a good idea what the contents of the next chapter will be, but you'll have to be patient.**


	20. Oi

**A/N: Back, again. I dedicate this chapter to the people who died during the 9/11 "terrorist attacks," and I would just like to say, "Bad presidents happen to good people." Grazzi, Bill Maher for that lovely quote. Terrible things happen to good people, as well. It is a shame. By the way, this is not an act of jingoism; I am not into that, at all. I do believe in America and its possible greatness. If only we had the resources to achieve said greatness . . .**

**In other news, I have the rest of this story pretty much planned out from here. The next chapter may be a bit short; I'm not sure yet, but we'll just have to see. Then, the chapter after that may be a bit long in coming because I'm not sure of the details. Subsequently, there may be two more chapters after that and an epilogue. The last chapter (excluding the epilogue) should be fairly lengthy. So, you all have that to look forward to. Again, it depends on the way things work out. I may acquire an oddly busy schedule, so we'll just have to see. **

**Chapter 20**

**Oi**

Ron entered the kitchen, yawning. His brain was spinning. He had been so intolerably close! Then again, one kiss wasn't about to solve even _near_ all their problems. _Damn Tom!_ **_You still could have kissed her. _**He shook his head, looking up hurriedly when he heard laughter, fearing the worst; Tom. "Oh, Harry, it's you," he sighed, relieved as he spotted his best friend leaning against the counter with a cup of tea. He lapsed into quiet thoughtfulness, deciding he did not at all like the knowing look on Harry's face.

"So, that's it then?" Harry asked.

"What?"

"You aren't going to tell me about how you and Hermione _finally_-" Ron's dismayed look stopped Harry's query. "_Oh_." He rubbed his temple with his free hand. "What happened?"

Ron snorted. "Harry, you're my best mate and all, but 'Mione's practically your sister. You wouldn't want to discuss Ginny with me; right? It's the same concept, really." He moved to pour himself a cup of tea.

Harry ignored the jump in his stomach at the mention of Ron's sister. "Yea . . . I suppose you're right."

The clink of the tea kettle against ceramic was all that shattered the uncomfortable hush that followed Harry's acquiescence.

"I'm going off to bed," Ron announced in due time, shrugging and subtly pouring his remaining tea down the sink.

Harry nodded, sipping more tea.

"Oh, and Harry," Ron added as he stepped into the center of the kitchen. "You'd do well to tell me if anything _was_ going on between you and Ginny."

"I-" Ron disapparated before Harry could reply, leaving him disgruntled, with nothing to console him but his tea. "What the hell was that all about?" he asked himself.

----------

_Tap. Tap._ "Ginny." _Tap._ "Gin." Tom smiled as Ginny's sleep-ridden voice penetrated the silence of dawn's awakening.

" 'Oo is id?"

"It's Tom," Tom whispered.

Ginny tried to conceal her groan of frustration with her pillow. "Tom, i's still nigh' out; go back t' bed."

Tom took the liberty of opening her door and slipping into her room, switching on the light as he did so. "I have something important to tell you."

Ginny sat up sharply, drawing her covers up to her chin and scrunching up her face to keep the light out of her eyes. "_Tom_," she hissed, though she sounded slightly amused.

"I can't sleep." Tom sat down on the foot of her bed, running a hand through his tousled mop.

"Why?" Ginny asked, her voice losing a bit of its grogginess.

"I saw . . ." Tom paused, and Ginny stared at him, too tired to inquire as to what he had seen. "I went downstairs to get a glass of water, because I was thirsty, but when I reached the first floor, I saw Ron and Hermione, on the floor, together-"

Ginny brightened. "Well, that's brilliant!" she chirped.

Tom looked down guiltily. "Well, yes, it was, but I think I may have interrupted something."

Ginny's smile faded. "Something?"

"Something, as in, they may have been about to finally admit _something_, had I not been thirsting to death!"

Tom's regretful, saddened look made Ginny's smile return, and she reached out and grabbed his hand. "It couldn't be helped. Besides, if anything _had_ been about to happen, Ron probably would have continued it, just to spite you. He thinks you fancy her, you know."

Tom ran his other hand over his face in frustration. "Yes, I know."

"Don't worry about it. I don't blame you, and I'm sure Hermione doesn't blame you, for whatever did or didn't happen between her and Ron tonight." Ginny extended her arm and gently cupped his chin, forcing him to look at her. "Don't. Worry." Her eyes held sparks of laughter in them, and he grinned cheekily.

"I just love being in your room with you, _alone_," he whispered suggestively.

Ginny let go of him, laughing. "Get out," she ordered, swatting his arm playfully. Tom chuckled and exited her room, feeling loads better.

Tom's good mood evaporated when he saw Harry walking down the stairs; the latter turned around when he heard the floor squeal. His eyes narrowed as he spotted Tom leaving Ginny's room, but he looked away and continued his trek down the stairs.

"Harry . . ."

Harry ignored him.

--------------------------------

Hermione moaned as she awoke, rolling over to face the clock and frowning in confusion; it was already past noon. As she sat up, her temple throbbed harshly, and she fingered it gingerly. As she had lain awake in her room until the wee hours of the morning, the effects of her actions slowly sinking in, it had been obvious that running around in the cold rain and then having enough alcohol to make her tipsy had not been a good idea, but now, her aching head and running nose made this fact even more prominent. She recalled last night's resolution and sighed.

"I have to avoid him at all costs," she decreed aloud, cringing at her slightly nasally tone.

"Avoid who?" Tom's chipper voice asked from the doorway as he nudged the door open.

Hermione started and met his gaze. "No one." She took a quick breath. "No one at all."

"Oh, _real_-"

"Yes." Hermione's eyes darted back to the clock. "Why didn't you wake me earlier?" She sniffed, wiping a hand over her tired eyes.

"Are you feeling all right?" Tom asked, his laughing tone vanishing.

"I've just got a bit of a cold is all," Hermione muttered, getting out of her bed tiredly.

"Well, if you're sick, you should rest," Tom advised, his concern evident.

Hermione shook her head. "It'd be a waste of my visit," she replied. "I'll be fine." But she stumbled, and Tom stepped forward to grab her elbow, steadying her.

"Fine as in toppling to the ground fine?" he quipped gravely, guiding her back to her bed. "I'll tell Harry you're sick. He wouldn't want you up and about anymore than I do."

_At least this'll make it easy_ Hermione mused, finding herself willingly falling back into her pillows. _I'd've been stuck clinging to Harry all day and avoiding Tom and Ron like the Black Death._

"-Get you some tea," Tom was saying as he tucked her into the bedclothes. "All right?"

"Pardon?" Hermione mumbled contentedly.

"Stay here," Tom repeated. "Relax."

"Mmhmm." Hermione nestled in the down clouds around her.

Tom watched her, a small smile spreading across his lips, and the door creaked shut as he left the room.

A vision of the man she loved made itself known behind Hermione's closed lids, and the last thought in her mind before all was lost to the subconscious was _Ron_.

--------------

Ron let his head rest against the cold wood of his desk, sighing. He hadn't gotten a wink of sleep the previous night, and his mind was muddled. Bugger stretched languorously on his bed, opening an eye to view Ron's pitiful state before drifting back to sleep.

_Sort . . . papers_ Ron's cloudy brain ordered. He slowly opened his top desk drawer and began sorting the reports of muggle-magic encounters.

_Dragon . . . Sphinx . . . Voldemort memory . . . Quidditch . . . Wizard attack . . . _It seemed to be hours before Ron had reached the bottom of the drawer, though he had lazily thrown the last cluster of papers onto his bed. He stood and stretched his arms above his head, his fingers just inches from the ceiling. "I'll get you something more to eat," he announced to his snoozing, feline friend, heading toward the door, after snatching the again empty saucer that was supposed to be filled with milk.

"Hermione's 'sick'," Ginny stated, her air quotes puzzling her sleepless brother as he entered the kitchen and made a B line for the fridge. "I blame you," she added seriously.

Ron whirled to face her. "Why in the bloody hell would you blame _me_?" he demanded angrily.

Ginny rolled her eyes, not at all intimidated by her sibling's indignant behavior. "_You_ are obviously the only reason she would agree to being bed-ridden all day, without having some life-threatening illness. From what Tom told me, she's only got a cold."

"Well, maybe it's a _bad_ cold!" Ron rejoined, turning back to the icebox and wrenching the door open.

"It's not, and even if it was, a bad cold wouldn't keep perfectionist Hermione laid up. What did you do to her last night?"

Ron froze, reacting to Ginny's interested tone. "Tom," he growled. Again, he pivoted and glared at his younger sister. "He told you; didn't he?" he queried quickly. At her raised eyebrow, he went red.

"Told me what?" Ginny asked, sounding amused.

Ron glowered at her before throwing his hands into the air in surrender. "We just _tripped_-Nothing happened; all right?" He looked back at the fridge after grudgingly adding, "Nothing at all."

"Well, Harry and I are taking Tom out again in about a half an hour. We need you to stay here and watch Hermione," Ginny declared.

Ron glanced at the window to find darkness settling on the backyard. "Where is your precious muggle, anyway?" he asked stonily, trying to forget the mistakes he'd made the last time he and Hermione had been alone.

"He's upstairs making sure Hermione's settled before we leave."

_I'll bet._ Ron poured creamed into the cup, irritated at finding his sister entirely unsuspicious.  
"What's that for?" Ginny asked curiously.

Ron looked up and then back to the small dish. "Oh, this?" He raised it to his mouth. "I've taken up cream drinking. See?" He took a quick gulp of the thick, frothy liquid trying not to spit it out, in spite of its nauseatingly sweet flavor. He swallowed and attempted a smile. "Delicious."

Ginny gawked at him. "Gross."

-----------------

"Tom, no!" Hermione cried, clutching Tom's hand desperately. "Don't leave me here, with _him_!"

Tom put his hands on her shoulders and eased her back into her pillows. "Why not? Don't think you can _control_ yourself?" He smirked good-humoredly.

"No!" Hermione retorted a tad too quickly. "It's just-I-We had enough time to visit last night, and I-I'm feeling exponentially better, so I think I could probably-"

"No, you're not," Tom interjected, pressing his left hand to her forehead pointedly. "And I think you're running a fever-"

"Tom, it's time to go!" Ginny called from downstairs.

Tom smiled almost remorsefully. "You should have Ron get you something cold for your head." He backed away from her carefully, disregarding the pained look on her face. "I'll check in on you when we get back." He dashed from the room, bewildered by the powerful feeling rising in his breast.

**A/N: I really do like writing this story, and your responses are all so awesome. I lurve you guys! Stay tuned for more! I should have another chappy done by next week if things go as planned. **


	21. With You

**A/N: ZOMG! I HAVE 206 LOVELY REVIEWS FROM YOU LOVELY, LOVELY READERS! I LOVE YOU, GUYS! YAY! Thanks SO much! **

**Anyway, does it seem like it's been a long time since I updated? It does to me. : ( I came down with the most awful case of writer's block, but thankfully, I recovered. Enjoy the proceeds!**

**Chapter 21**

**With You**

The kitchen door squealed as it opened, and Ron, who was rummaging in the fridge, turned quickly in response. In the doorway stood a feverishly flushed, bashful Hermione, her hand pressed to her forehead. Her hair hung in a tangled mass, framing her troubled face. Despite the fact that illness gave her a pale, weak look, she added to that image of helplessness by staring at him almost fearfully, and he straightened slowly, not sure what to say or if he should say anything at all.

Hermione was the first to act, blurting embarrassedly, "Tom said I have a fever-so-I need ice. For my head, but I'll just wait until-"

Ron was next to her in a flash, his hand against her forehead. "You do have a fever." He dropped his hand quickly, silently pained by her stricken expression. He moved toward the refrigerator, and Hermione followed. "I'll get you something-"

"No, I'm all right. I'll get-" She froze when Ron's hand closed over hers as they simultaneously latched onto the freezer door. Their eyes met briefly before both jerked their hands away as if bitten by flame.

Ron let out a nervous laugh, and Hermione clenched her jaw to keep from doing the same. "_I'll_ get it," she said firmly, her tone laced with venom. She gripped the door handle accordingly.

Ron narrowed his eyes, gentleness vanishing; he never had been one to respond positively to her affronts. "No, _I_ will," he snapped, snatching the open door from her.

"_Ron_," Hermione warned through her teeth, determined to fight all his acts of kindness.

"_Hermione_," Ron growled, frustrated by her decline to his offers of assistance.

Hermione shrunk slightly as she noted the fire in his eyes, but she wasn't about to back down. "Ronald, I can _get_ it _myself_." She seized the handle in an area as far away from Ron's hand as she could and yanked the door from him challengingly.

Something in Ron snapped, and he could no longer bear the tension. Releasing the door from his already loose hold, he grabbed Hermione's hand and pulled her dangerously close. He stared down into her saucer-like eyes, breathing heavily. "_Let_ me get it _for_ you," he snarled, nostrils flaring.

As he moved around the loosely swinging door to get a washcloth, Hermione tried to gather herself and endeavored to close her eyes to the fact that she would have submitted to anything Ron asked at that moment, had he asked it. Avoiding this man was definitely _not_ going the way she had planned.

Ron glanced at her as he pulled open a drawer and was satisfied to have flustered her. "Hold this," he ordered, his voice instantaneously soft.

Hermione clutched the cloth like a lifeline, nearly shaking with anxiety. She almost didn't hear Ron announce that he was taking the cloth, due to her trumpeting heart, but was quite aware of that fact when his fingers brushed her palm and, fairly ironically considering that he was still holding her other hand, sent shivers down her spine.

Ron gazed into her petrified eyes, and offered the smallest, most discreet of smiles, almost hesitantly freeing her from his grasp, laying the cloth on the counter, and setting a pile of ice in its center. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Hermione nervously clasp her hands together and cough. He used his wand to fasten the cloth into something of a reliable container for the ice and turned to face Hermione, whose eyes were fixed on the ground. "Here," he said quietly, for some reason now horridly afraid of disturbing her.

He held the cold cloth out to her, and she took it, avoiding any physical contact. "Thank you," she practically whispered before dashing from the room.

Ron watched her go, content with having been of some kind of assistance but despondent at said assistance having been unwanted.

------------------

"I've always wanted an owl of my own," Ginny declared as she, Tom, and third wheel Harry passed the refurbished owlery in Diagon Alley.

Tom chuckled, trying not to sound distant, though he was. "Why don't you just buy one, then?" he inquired, not really interested but attempting to make himself seem so. In reality, however, he couldn't keep his mind of some niggling feel in the back of his mind that told him something about his actions as of late was amiss. _I shouldn't have left her there, with him. She wanted me to stay._ Tom shook his head, just barely tuning into the present enough to hear Ginny utter something about not being up to the responsibility of taking care of an owl. "Oh, I see," he replied understandingly.

Harry watched their intercourse silently, trying to ignore his jealousy and get over whatever he was feeling. He looked up at the sky, which was still dark from the recent weather spell they had been having.

"Harry," Ginny said insistently, snapping him out of his trance. Had she been calling him? "We're going to get some ice cream. Would you like some?"

Harry wasn't sure . . . about anything. "Sure. Chocolate. But let me pay," he offered, reaching into his pocket.

"No, I'll-"

"I insist."

Ginny smiled at him gratefully, recalling that she was always short on money. "Thanks." He shrugged nonchalantly. She pulled Tom, who was still deep in thought, along with them, ordering a simple dish of mint ice cream and a vanilla cone for Tom.

Harry paid, and they all sat at a table on the patio, chatting through the darkness that enveloped them.

"What do you think they're doing right now?" Tom asked rather erratically, startling both Ginny and Harry, who had been making petty conversation about the fairly violent rains the night before.

"I doubt anything's happened," Harry said mock-glumly, around a mouthful of ice cream, meeting Ginny's gaze and managing a lightheartedly defeated grin.

Ginny laughed. "Harry! Don't be so pessimistic!" She gave him a playfully scolding look.

Tom looked at them questioningly. "How is that funny? Do you think they're still sulking?" he asked concernedly.

Ginny tore her gaze from Harry's and looked at Tom. "It wasn't funny so much as it was ironic. Harry and I've been working on those two for ages, and so far, we've made little to no headway. I'm sure everything's fine back at the house; lighten up." She laced her fingers with his reassuringly.

Tom smiled anxiously, but whether it was paranoia or another instance of his intuition, he had a feeling everything was _not_ fine.

-----------------------------

Hermione collapsed on her bed, depression taking over as she held the ice to her forehead and tried to un-sear Ron's touch from her skin. Tears wobbled in her eyes before spilling violently down her cheeks, and she felt herself breaking down.

Perhaps she should have _made_ Tom stay. Truth be told, she depended on him for moral support far too much. Had she been back at her flat at that moment, with her roommate snoring in his bedroom just down the hall, she could have tiptoed to him, and only a groan of protest from the bedsprings would have delayed her confession of all things troubling to his listening, if not sleep-muddled, ears. But she was not in her flat, and the only person in the vicinity of any nearby hallway was a certain Ronald Weasley, who she was _supposed_ to be avoiding at all costs. So much for that attempt.

She would have to try harder to ignore him the next time she saw him; things were too difficult otherwise.

There was a tepid knock at the door, which brought Hermione's heartbeat to a resounding boom as she was jolted from her reverie.

"Hermione?" Ron's voice called through the wood of the locked door.

Hermione clamped her mouth shut, hardly breathing; this week's resolution would not be ignored again.

"Hermione . . . All right. Well, I'm just going to grab a shower before I head to bed, so . . . Just wanted to let you know . . . I, uh, hope you're feeling better . . . Good night . . ." There was a dull silence before the aged floorboards squeaked, announcing Ron's deviation from Hermione's room.

When Ron was out of earshot, Hermione exhaled forcefully as she reclined on her bed, and she squeezed her eyes shut, letting what remained of her tears rolls past her temples and into her unruly hair. Ron's tired words echoed in her ears, filling her with grief, but she tried her best to block them out. Sleep would clear her head, and she had a surprise party, for her comfort guy, to plan anyway; her troubles with Ron would just have to wait. There was a loud bang nearby; Hermione disregarded it, as well.

"_Ron doesn't remember anything," Harry whispered as he sat down next to Hermione in the waiting area of St. Mungo's. _

_Hermione nodded. "Ginny told me before you came out." Her eyes held a bleak look, and she stared into her lap pitifully. _

_"Hermione," Harry said quietly, causing her to look at him. There were tears in her eyes. "You can go in to see him, you know. I told him about you."_

_Hermione bit her lip uncertainly. After what she had said . . . She had bared all to Ron, just before he had died. To know that the courage it had taken to confess such a secret emotion had been futilely spent tore her apart. Perhaps, if she could muster up the bravery again . . . _

_"He wants to see you," Harry assured her. "Go." Hermione gave him an apprehensive look. "_Go_," he repeated. Hermione stood and walked to the entrance of the corridor that led to Ron's hospital room. She hesitated and glanced back to meet Harry's ever-reassuring gaze once more before heading down the grim, stone passage._

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Ron burst into his room, the slam of his door against the wall as he thrust it open startling Bugger, who had made himself a nest in the papers Ron had previously deposited on his bed. "What is my _problem_?" he bellowed, causing the tiny feline to watch him with wide eyes. Ron sighed, running a hand through his hair and approaching the wary kitten. "Sorry, I don't know what's come over me. I've just been really-" He halted. "I'm talking to a cat . . . _Brilliant_." He plopped down on the bed next to the slowly relaxing cat and scratched between his ears. His eyes drifted to the crumpled papers underneath the ball of fur, and he furrowed his brows, spotting something he had not expected. Reaching out, he clasped a parchment illustrating a poorly drawn, windblown girl with the unruliest of hair. His breath caught in his throat as he spotted the cut sketched near her hairline, and he wondered if he would ever be close enough to this woman to see the scar that the wound had left. Would he ever be able to hold her close and tell her how sorry he was for what had happened? Would he ever be able to tell her . . . how much he loved her?

_Hermione pushed the door open reluctantly, vacillating in the doorframe._

_The redheaded boy in the hospital bed cocked his head in her direction. "You're . . . Hermione?" he asked, though he felt certain he was correct in his guess._

_Hermione let out a breath she didn't know she had been holding. "Yes . . ." She ventured a smile as she took a shaky step away from the door._

_"So . . . er, how do you know me? Harry didn't explain." Ron laughed slightly, sensing her discomfort._

_Hermione was surprised to feel the sting of tears in her eyes. "We've-uh-" She cleared her throat, tucking some of her hair behind her ear. "We've been friends since 1991, after you and Harry s-saved my life," she stated, worried that Ron would pick up on her doleful disposition._

_Ron watched her; there had to be something more. Nothing else could explain . . . "Uh, have a seat," he said, his ears going red._

_Hermione edged toward him, her breathing shallow. She sat down at the foot of his bed, forcing a smile and looking up at him. "So, how have you been, since . . ." She wasn't sure how to go on._

_"I've been well, though losing my mind, literally, hasn't been the greatest, but how've you been? That's quite a cut, you've got there." He resisted the urge to reach out and brush his fingers across her skin._

_"Oh, it's not so bad," Hermione said, noticing the twitch of his hand before looking back into his eyes. He appeared skeptical. "I'm fine, really," she insisted._

_Ron frowned, unable to deny what he thought he knew any longer. "Hermione . . ." He reached weakly for the bedside table drawer, but Hermione stood quickly, not wanting him to overexert himself. He smiled appreciatively, leaning back into his pillows. "Top drawer." _

_Hermione pulled the drawer open slowly. She froze when she spotted the marked parchment within. Carefully, as if the paper had the capability of disintegrating in her hands, she lifted it from the drawer and eased herself back to the bed. The roughly drawn image that adorned the surface of the parchment was scantily done, to say the least, but the defining features of the figure within were clear; the female subject was standing in a land surrounded by what seemed to be burnt grasslands, and her mouth was open in a desperate frown, as if she had been speaking, or pleading, at the time the sketch had been made. Just below the hairline that cut off the growth of her frantically bushy hair, which stuck out at all ridiculous angles, was a clean laceration. _

_Looking up from the drawing, Hermione fingered her bandaged wound, trying to come to terms with this unexplainable object. She gazed at Ron, silently asking for an explanation, but none came. "Who drew this?" she asked, her voice coming out more harshly than she had wished._

_Ron was suddenly bashful, nervously rubbing the back of his neck with his hand. "Er-I did." Hermione ogled him, bewildered beyond all reason, and Ron focused his eyes on his drawing. "I lied when I said I had forgotten everything, but I wasn't sure what this memory meant or even if it was real; so I couldn't very well tell Harry about it, because he wasn't present for most of it-"_

_"Memory?" Hermione interrupted sharply, having finally found her voice._

_Ron was growing redder by the minute. "The girl, in the drawing . . . she told me she loved me; insisted she did, and I . . . that's the last, and only thing I remember-which is why I drew it . . . You can't deny that she has an uncanny resemblance to you, and the cut, on her forehead . . ." Ron found the courage to graze her temple with his thumb, hating the tears in her eyes; had he made her cry like this in the past? She shook with his touch, and he withdrew his hand. "I need you to help me decipher what is and is not real, Hermione."_

_A single tear glided down Hermione's cheek and hit the parchment. Confidence in the matters of romance had never been her strong suit, and only twice had she mustered up enough nerve to even come close to admitting her true feelings; only _once_ had she been able to voice them in their entirety. Had she been certain that Ron's affection matched hers, perhaps she could have persevered to assure him that his "memory" was, indeed, a memory, and that she loved him with every fiber of her being, but as it was, she was not certain of anything pertaining to Ron's possible love for her; but she did know that Ron remembered very little of the past, and his only motivation for asking her about the sketch may have been just to prove to himself that he knew something. And that wasn't enough. "It must have been a dream," Hermione murmured._

_"A dream . . ." Ron repeated tentatively._

_She would rather die than meet his gaze. "Perhaps . . . or maybe a mistake. Your mind could have . . . I don't know-thrown me into an entirely unconnected memory." Ron's very manner of breathing oozed cynicism. "It's possible," she persisted. _

"_You think my mind played . . . cut and paste with my memories?" he asked, snorting. "_Very_ realistic."_

"I_ think it is," Hermione huffed, going back to her default, anger-over-confession tactic. "Obviously, _you_ wouldn't be able to understand the concept." She stood abruptly and shoved the sketch into his hands before striding across the room, with her back to him._

_Ron narrowed his eyes. "Well, _obviously_," he agreed sarcastically. This situation brought on an extreme sense of déjà vu. Did he and Hermione fight often?"Because you, _All-knowing Hermione_, are able to create theories about some strange phenomena with absolutely no possible precedent to the event that spurred your theory. Your magical powers are _that_ brilliant," he snarled vituperatively._

_Hermione pivoted to face him, tears streaming down her cheeks in broad stripes. "I'm just _so_ glad you lived, Ronald!" she cried sarcastically, though, in truth, she couldn't have meant it more._

_Ron put on a scowl and opened his mouth, as if to retort, but Hermione flung herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck in a grip that indicated that she would never let go again. She sobbed on his shoulder, potentially betraying her earlier lies._

_Ron gingerly pulled her closer to him, this moment assuring him even more that there was something more than friendship between himself and Hermione. _

_Hermione calmed down fairly quickly, and Ron held her at arm's length, marveling at how beautiful she was, in spite of her inflamed, tearstained features. "The sketch does tell the truth; doesn't it?" he asked cautiously._

_Hermione sniffled and backed away from him. "No, it was a mistake. That can't be me. I'm sorry."_

"_But-"_

"_It's good to see you're feeling better," Hermione interjected, forcing a smile. "I've got to . . . meet someone; I hope to see you again soon."_

_With that, Hermione turned her back on the man she loved and left the room._

Ron had not seen her after then, and he had had to practically force Harry to send her an invitation; Harry insisted he needed to do these things himself.

Ron's blank gaze refocused on the haphazard sketch in his hands, and he exhaled sadly. "It's _always_ been you, Hermione," he whispered. "Always . . ."

**A/N: I'll try to get Chapter 22 posted within the next week or two. I don't have much time as of late, but I'm trying to get this puppy finished.**


	22. Intent

**Chapter 22**

**Intent**

Ginny was drunk. Neither of the men knew how exactly it had happened, but Harry sure as Hell blamed Tom. "I leave you two alone for one _minute_, in that godforsaken pub, and she downs-what? Four, _five_ mugs of fire whisky?" the former berated, Ginny clutching his arm as she staggered with them down Diagon Alley. "Why didn't you _stop_ her?"

Tom stared at the pair, not sure how to respond. He had not been paying attention to Ginny, though he hated to admit it. There was something wrong with him, and he was immensely glad to be headed home.

"Well?" Harry demanded, shooting Tom a glare. "Or did you _want_ this to happen?"

"Of curse 'e didit," Ginny chimed in, her face dangerously close to Harry's as she gazed up into his eyes, smiling. His nostrils flared; why did she trust Tom so? She hardly _knew_ him!

Tom sighed, still thinking about his best friend and how she was doing or if she was feeling better. "I didn't think she'd drink herself sick," he stated ruefully.

"If you knew anything about Ginny, you'd know that she can't hold her liquor," Harry barked defensively.

"I'm sorry," Tom murmured.

Harry snorted sardonically. "You can tell _her_ you're sorry, tomorrow morning, when she's got a splitting headache and feels awful," he snapped, drawing Ginny closer to him as he spotted a suspicious-looking wizard huddling under an awning nearby. "Can't _believe_ you didn't think to stop her," he growled at length.

Tom watched him, a knowing look creeping onto his face as he remembered his epiphany from the night before. Harry was so intent on keeping these things a secret, but to anyone but the parties involved, his feelings were obvious.

Harry glanced at him as he noticed his intent stare. "What?" he asked nervously, not appreciating the look Tom wore.

Tom was jolted back to reality and turned away quickly. "Nothing. Sorry," he replied almost inaudibly. He would end whatever trifling relationship he had with Ginny on the day of his and Hermione's departure, which was set to be Tuesday. Hopefully, she would not be too terribly upset.

---

Harry pulled Ginny out of the fireplace, and she collapsed into his arms, giggling uncontrollably. He couldn't help but smile. "You are _so_ smashed," he declared jokingly.

Tom emerged just after them, relieved to be back. Without looking at the laughing pair, who were currently tripping over one another in their dance for stability, he hurried up the stairs. He reached Hermione's room and tried the knob; it was locked. "Damn," he snarled. He _needed_ to see Hermione for some unknown, but definitely urgent, reason

Dashing downstairs, he found Harry still trying to get Ginny on her feet. Sighing in exasperation, Harry stepped away from her a bit. "That's it," he grunted as he picked her up bridal style. Tom hovered in the doorway, silent as the grave. He demurred slightly before calling out, "Harry, I-"

Harry looked up sharply and spotted him, a distinct guilty look washing over him as his flirtatious smile faltered. "I'm just-uh-taking her upstairs," he explained, shifting a still tittering and squirming Ginny in his arms.

Tom nodded slowly. "I'll walk with you," he offered.

"Hang on, Gin," Harry whispered as Ginny fastened her arms around his neck, nuzzling against the fabric of his shirt.

As they traipsed up the stairs, weary from another night on the town, Tom turned to Harry, seeing the subtle, loving look he was giving Ginny. "I need you to unlock Hermione's door," he ventured quietly.

Harry glanced at him. "Why?" His tone was dry.

"I promised I'd check on her when we got home."

Harry frowned, then smirked, seeming satisfied and excited. "Maybe she's got her door locked for a reason," he mused, letting out a laugh, which Ginny, wasted beyond all reason, heartily repeated.

"They're stemming the rose!" she cried more loudly than necessary.

Tom felt his stomach coil. "You think?"

"Why else would she have locked the door?" Harry reasoned, tightening his grip on Ginny as she relaxed, becoming heavier with exhaustion.

"Maybe she wanted to get away from Ron," Tom blustered. _Why am I searching for an alternative?_

Harry shot him a sidelong look upon halting in front of Ginny's bedroom door. "Open the door." Tom pushed it open hurriedly. Harry stepped in, inhaling the faint scent of Ginny, which would probably linger in the room for years to come. "What's with you, anyway?" he asked Tom, who was waiting in the hallway. "The way you're talking, anyone would think you're against them." He bent over, carefully lowering Ginny onto the bed. "I hope you're not." He reached behind his head to disentangle Ginny from himself, saying offhandedly. "You could've been plotting against them from the st-" Ginny pulled him to her, unexpectedly pressing her lips against his.

Tom, curious as to Harry's sudden silence, poked his into the room, his jaw dropping.

Harry couldn't kiss back; Ginny was drunk! Utterly, unrepentantly drunk. She would not have been practically snogging him otherwise.

Tom was watching; Harry could feel his probable glare burning a hole into his back. Would but he could pull away, but Ginny steadfastly held him by the neck. She fell back into her pillows in her own time, but only after she has gasped a husky, "Harry." against Harry's lips.Harry stepped back, slowly pivoting to face Ginny's current paramour. He exhaled nervously, rubbing the back of his neck as he avoiding Tom's wide-eyed stare, "She's _really_ drunk," he offered, as if that was a logical excuse and as if his now tingling lips had had no inclination to submit to Ginny's wholehearted advances.

"Right," Tom agreed, dismissing the scene he had just witnessed. "So, will you unlock Hermione's door? I promised." He silently feared what he might find. Had their plan succeeded? _Why am I afraid?_

Harry sighed resignedly, knowing he was in no position to argue, especially considering what had just occurred. "All right," he acquiesced, taking one last look at Ginny before heading out the door, which he shut quietly, deep in thought. _She said my name._

---

The door whined in protest as Tom pushed it open. He peered into the room and was paradoxically pleased to find his innocent Hermione curled up in the moonlight, entirely alone.

Her stopped-up nose gave her rhythmic breathing a raspy intonation, and her lips were curled downward in an angelic frown. Her eyes rapidly flew back and forth beneath her eyelids, and her fingers twitched. Her dream must have been brutal.

Harry tapped on Tom's shoulder, gesturing into the hallway. Tom nodded understandingly, tearing his eyes from his best friend, whose figure was notably well-defined through the lone sheet that covered her.

She was all right. Tom had had nothing to worry about, but the uneasy churn of his stomach merely grew.

---

Ron had fallen into an agitated sleep after mulling over his predicament for hours, easily working himself into a fit of rage. If Hermione wanted to deny this connection they inadvertently had, Ron could play the same tormenting game painlessly--well, determinedly anyway . . .

Needless to say, the aggravated ginger did not wake up feeling pleasant. He stormed downstairs after a bitingly cold shower, subconsciously hoping someone was in the kitchen, so he could verbally attack him or her and vent some of his anger. It was unfortunate for him, then, that he found naught but a hastily scribbled note on the kitchen table informing him that Harry and Ginny had taken Tom out to eat, _again_, and that Ron was to keep watch over Hermione.

He grumbled something vulgar, tearing the piece of parchment in half and jerking open the muggle refrigerator door.

---

Hermione awoke to the noxious smell of burnt toast. She rubbed her gritty eyes and sniffed, wondering why Tom's specialty had suddenly gone awry. That was _before_ she realized that she was still staying in Harry's house.

Wholly expecting to find said host making breakfast, if not very haphazardly, on the first floor, she tromped down the stairs, ignoring the uncomfortable nature of her current predicament. She yawned out of habit but her air flow was stopped, and she gagged loudly; the burnt toast smell was much more prominent in the general vicinity of where the burning was taking place. "Harry?" she called as she opened the kitchen door. "Harry, is everything all-" She halted as Ron came into view and turned to face her, revealing a plate, which held a tower of blackened bread. Disapprovingly, she crossed her arms over her chest and narrowed her eyes. "Oh, it's _you_," she acknowledged derisively; what an act. She spun on her heel, intent on leaving the room. She wanted nothing to do with this wizard, nothing to do with the catch in her heart that was sure to arise if she ceased to be all out uncivil.

"I made breakfast." Ron spat, his voice cold. "Don't be rude; join me."

Hermione tossed him a dark glare but agreed to his invitation. _I'm famished_ she reasoned with herself, and really, her growling stomach told her that, at this point, even burnt toast would be suitable.

---

Tom impatiently tapped his foot underneath the table, shoveling the fluffy, scrambled eggs from his plate and into his mouth.

Ginny groaned yet again as a waitress in the nearby kitchen dropped a plate, and it screamed as it shattered into a billion pieces. She massaged her temples, sighing. "Why didn't someone _stop_ me?" she complained, and Harry gave Tom a pointed look, which Tom ignored. He was not in a good mood; his hopes of seeing his best friend when she woke had fallen through; the knot in his stomach refused to ease up, even a bit; and he had been dragged to yet _another_ wizard outlet with Ginny and the man who loved her.

"I hope I didn't cause too much trouble," the female in question added. "I can't remember a thing!"

Harry went red as he shrugged. "You were fairly passive," he declared, though his mind replayed his sleepless night and restless thoughts like a bad movie a close friend insists you watch and re-watch. It was Tom's turn to dish out a pointed look as he finished his last bite. "We should go," he suggested quickly.

Ginny stood, nodding. "It's too loud here."

---

She sat at the head of the long table, opposite Ron, but even that was too near.

Hermione itched to ask Ron where the others had gone, but she glared distastefully at her charred toast instead. "You don't actually expect me to eat this; do you?" she griped, wrinkling her nose but refusing to look at him.

"Too good for my efforts, I suppose?" Ron retorted dryly.

"It's _ash_."

Ron scowled but said no more.

Again, Hermione nearly opened her mouth to inquire as to the others' whereabouts, but she stopped herself.

"Pass the milk," Ron snapped before grudgingly adding, "Please."

Hermione snatched her wand out of her pocket and swiftly levitated the pitcher of milk across the table, not wanting to risk any kind of skin contact. It landed in front of Ron, and its momentum caused its contents to slosh over the top and onto Ron.

He sprung up from his chair, knocking it over in his sudden movement. Thick, white droplets clung to his shirt and spiked his hair down onto his forehead. "DAMN IT, HERMIONE!" he bellowed, staring at her fiercely. "WHAT IS YOUR _PROBLEM_!?"

"_YOU_ ARE!" Hermione yelled back, standing abruptly and leaving.

"WELL, I'M _SORRY_ FOR MAKING YOU _BREAKFAST_!" he hollered after her, "AND I'M SORRY NOT EVERYONE CAN BE _PERFECT_, LIKE YOU!"

Hermione popped back into the room at that, eyes blazing. "_YOU _CAN'T EVEN MAKE _TOAST_!" Neither noticed the back door opening.

"_YOU _CAN'T EVEN ADMIT THAT YOU-"

"Tom!" Hermione exclaimed, smiling gratefully at something, or someone rather, behind Ron.

"Hermione," Tom greeted, sounding dubiously contented.

Ron turned and spotted the detestable muggle, and his lips curled back as his protective instincts kicked in.

Hermione skipped across the room and tightly, _intimately_ embraced Tom, who smugly peered at Ron over his friend's shoulder, eyeing him almost laughingly, and his tone was snarky as he snickered and asked, "What happened to _you_?"

At least, this was how Ron viewed the moment through his mind's eyes. Really, Hermione shuffled past Ron, as if worried he might attack, and she gave Tom a short, friendly hug. Tom shot a puzzled look at the milk-covered Ron before asking Hermione, in a gentle, concerned tone, "What happened?"

"None of your business," Ron barked before Hermione could reply.

The latter gave him a loathing look before turning back to Tom, smiling sweetly, but unconvincingly. "Nothing happened," she attempted to assure him. "Everything's fine."

"You're sure?" Tom pressed, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder.

"Positive. Why did you come through the back door?" she asked softly, completely ignoring a fuming Ron.

"We traveled by portkey," Harry answered as he walked through the door, brandishing a rusty spatula.

Ginny entered after him, latching onto Tom's arm. "Bloody restaurant was so _bloody_ loud," she grumbled, her gaze drifting to her older brother and cracking. She let out a loud snort, doubling over and taking Tom down with her. "What-happened-to-_you_!?" she managed to cry between squeals of laughter.

Ron narrowed his eyes, folding his arms over his chest, intent on not finding any of this funny.

Harry let out a chortle, as well. "You look like you lost a fight with a cow, mate," he quipped lightly.

Ron clenched his jaw. "Very funny."

Hermione smiled in a satisfied manner, giving Ron a _real_ smug look. "Where did you all go?" she asked nonchalantly.

"We went out for breakfast; we would have brought you along, but we thought it would be better for your health if you stayed in," Harry replied, glancing at Ginny, and recalling the plan they had formulated before their departure that morning.

_"Morning, Harry," Ginny said, her voice strained, as she entered the kitchen, where Harry was sipping on his tea and reading the Daily Prophet. _

_"Good morning, Gin. Feeling all right?" He was intent on forgetting the previous night's events._

_"Other than a smashing hangover?" she laughed. "Yes, I'm fine. But listen," she entreated, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, "I've got another idea." She sat at the table, and Harry got up to pour her a cup, extra milk and sugar, just the way she liked it. "Our intent is to get them alone together as much as possible; right?" Harry nodded, setting her cup down in front of her and taking his seat again. "And you don't have any party supplies on hand; correct?"_

_"Not to my knowledge . . . I think I see where you're going with this."_

_"Send them shopping."_

_"Brilliant."_

_They enthusiastically toasted to good plans._

And Harry was to inform the pair of their pre-planned outing while Ginny "kept Tom busy," whatever the Hell that meant.

---

"You said you wanted to talk to us alone?" Hermione asked, walking as far away from Ron as possible on her way into the sitting room.

"Yea, listen . . . for Tom's party," Harry tried to sound as desperate as possible, though he noted Ron's furtive eye rolling. "I need you two to go buy supplies."

Hermione's face fell. "'You two'? You mean _us_, together?"

Harry watched them. "Is that a problem?"

"Of course not!" Hermione answered too quickly. "It's just . . . Couldn't you and Ginny go? Won't Tom be suspicious?"

"Yea, you _are_ the ones who came up with this dumb idea, anyway," Ron snapped.

"Well, Ginny and I have a good excuse, which wouldn't work if she and I were to go," Harry improvised. He was trying his best to be convincing.

"Oh?" Hermione demanded, becoming flustered and thus irritable.

"Well, we decided that it would be best to tell Tom that you two went out to 'catch up' or something." Harry advocated his initial intent smoothly.

Hermione glanced at Ron anxiously. "What about my health? I _am_ sick, after all." She forced a cough.

Harry smiled sympathetically. "But you seem to be feeling much better, and I _really _need you to do this." He was really laying it on thick, this time.

"_Must_ we?" Hermione inquired earnestly.

Ron aimed a glare at her. "Glad a day with me is so appealing, 'Mione," he muttered deprecatingly.

Hermione rolled her eyes before turning to Harry imploringly. "Harry, really, be reasonable. Ron and I-We'll never find what you want us to get-We fight so much!"

Harry pulled a slip of paper out of his pocket. "Here's the list. I'm sure you'll do fine. I think it'd be best if you left now, that way Tom doesn't have time to ask questions. We want to keep this a surprise."

He hurried back into the kitchen before his best friends could protest. Ginny was painstakingly laughing at Tom practicing his "surprised look," and Harry felt his blood boil. He was horribly jealous. "They're leaving now," he announced.

Tom looked up. "Who?"

"Ron and Hermione. They're going to get supplies," Ginny replied.

"Oh . . ." Tom's dismay was unnoticed by his new, magical counterparts.

---

Hermione held the list in her hands, sucking in a breath of air before looking up at Ron nervously. "It's to help Harry," she reasoned with him.

Ron nodded resolutely, taking a step for the door. "Right. Nothing wrong with that."

"Ron." Ron halted expectantly. "I . . ." Hermione couldn't do it. "Let's just get this done as quickly as possible."

"Naturally," Ron agreed grimly.

Hermione smiled tersely, apparating into her room to get her muggle money. Tucking it into her pocket, she took a deep breath, exhaling slowly and composing herself. She bit her lip and then nodded to herself. "You can do this. It's just Ron." _Just Ron . . . _

"Ready?" Ron asked as she appeared outside the house, where he was casually leaning against the wall, hands shoved into his pockets.

"As ready as I'll ever be," she murmured, and they were off.

---

"_Those_ are streamers, Ron, not _that_," Hermione explained laconically, pointing to a package of typical, white, tissue-paper streamers and then to the multicolored piñata that Ron thought was a streamer.

"Well, _excuse me_ for not being a muggle," Ron bit back, roughly tossing the package into the pushcart Hermione was wheeling through McParty's, the only party supplies store in the general locale of Grimmauld Place. "What do we have left?"

"Candles, flour, sugar, chocolate, frosting, eggs, and I'm supposed to come up with a gift, since Harry and Ginny don't know Tom very well." Hermione sounded almost exasperated as she read the list.

"And we all know how well _you _know him," Ron retorted curtly.

Hermione just shook her head. "We'll have to go to another store for most of those things," she informed him blandly.

"That's just _peachy_," he responded sarcastically.

"Stop it," she ordered shortly, ready to scream.

"_I'm_ not doing anything." Ron raised his voice. "_You're_ the one that brought your bloody muggle to Harry's house and let him hook up with _my_ sister, thus inspiring her to want to throw some _bloody_ surprise party for him."

Hermione stopped the cart and turned to him, crossing her arms over her chest, an action so predictable for her when she was angry, especially with Ron. "He's not some 'bloody muggle', Ronald. He's my friend, and if you can't get that through your thick head, maybe we just shouldn't-"

"Don't." Hermione narrowed her eyes at him, waiting for an explanation. "I'm sorry." He forced a smile. "Let's just get this done as quickly as possible," he repeated her words from earlier, taking the cart from her and pushing it forward slightly, the only offering of peace he could give.

Hermione sighed and shrugged. "Fine." She moved into step with him. "Besides, people are beginning to stare," she added, taking a careful glance at the slightly bewildered people around them.

They humbly pushed their cart to the candle aisle, where shelf upon shelf was laden with all manner, color, and consistency of candles. Ron began scanning the products, obviously trying to be as agreeable as possible. Hermione watched him, making no move to join him, but touched that he cared enough to make it seem like he was interested in her friend's happiness, if only to keep her from yelling at him.

A crooked, old woman passing by glanced at her and, probably noting the small smile adorning her lips, tapped her on the shoulder, whispering, "He's a keeper, dear." while pointing discreetly at Ron, and she gave the smallest of knowing grins before she turned and continued on her former path.

A blush instantly washed over Hermione's cheeks, and she blinked to try to control it; fruitless.

Ron looked up from where he crouched next to one of the farther shelves and held up a small package of candles. "Would he like these?" he asked, looking back at the other candles.

Hermione tepidly walked in his direction and took them from his outstretched hand, closing her eyes as her fingers mistakenly brushed against his. She peered at him, and he didn't seem to have noticed, much to her relief; she didn't need him getting the idea that he had logical reason to think she still loved him. Looking down at the multicolored, "trick" candles, she thought about what Tom might like for a gift. _He's always been fond of books . . ._ In truth, books were probably where their connection had begun.

_"Mummy, I can't find the picture books!" a messy-haired boy cried to the slender woman he dubbed "Mummy;" he was new in town, or at least to this library. The buck-toothed six year-old had never seen him before, and she frequented the library more than any other grade-schooler in the area. _

_Her tiny arms were laden with books as she crossed to the librarian's desk, smiling her innocent smile. "Hello, Miss Williams," she greeted the elderly librarian as she heaved her books onto the counter._

_"Well, Tommy, go find a nice librarian, and see if she can help," the boy's mother could be heard saying from across the quiet building._

_"Why, hello, Hermione!" the woman replied, smiling sweetly as she tucked a curly wisp of silver behind her ear. "I see you've found yourself a whole mess of books to read. You _just _returned the last bunch, too! I'd say you're our best customer yet."_

_"You say that _every _time I come here," Hermione pointed out in her little girls' voice, digging in her pocket for her library card._

_The sound of sandals slapping on the hardwood floors could be heard a mile away, and as it drew nearer, both Hermione and the woman looked up from their conversation. It stopped just in front of Hermione, and the boy who had caused it bent over on his knees, gasping for air; it was obvious he had sprinted across the room just to get to them. He looked up at Hermione and smiled. "Are you-a librarian?" he asked between gasps, noting the pile of books he had glimpsed her carrying earlier._

_Hermione looked up at Librarian Williams, and the latter nodded. "Hermione, here, is our finest," she praised. The young girl went pink._

_"I can't find the picture books," the boy reiterated._

_"Hermione, why don't you show him where they are while I ring these up?" Miss Williams suggested softly._

_Hermione placed her card on the counter and tepidly led the boy to the children's section, pointing to a shelf lined with colorful books. "There."_

_"Thanks," the boy said, giving her another boyish smile. "I'm Tom." He held out his left hand._

_Hermione shook it after a moment of confusion. "Hermione."_

_"Do you like picture books?"_

_"I love books of any kind."_

_"Me, too!"_

"Hermione!" Ron nudged the object of his affection out of her stupor. "Can we go get the other supplies now, or would you rather stand there, daydreaming, all day?"

"Sorry," Hermione replied, dropping the candles into the basket without another thought; she would buy Tom a book of some sort, something with pictures.

---

"You know," Ron muttered thoughtfully as they meandered back to Harry's house, "it seems as though those three have been ditching us as much as possible lately."

Hermione glanced at him, amused, once again, by the sight of him carrying five not-so-light bags, as he had insisted he do. "Which three?" she asked, though she felt she knew what he was getting at.

Ron looked at her skeptically, but she kept a straight face. "Harry, Ginny, and _Tom_." He said the last with a certain note of loathing.

"I still don't see what you're getting at."

Total realization dawned on them both at precisely the same moment, and they looked at one another in shock, both going beet red.

"Tom wouldn't," Hermione asserted.

"Harry doesn't poke his nose into my-our business," Ron agreed.

"They couldn't possibly have plotted all this out in four days," Hermione insisted.

"And there's no reason they would want to, unless they think-"

"Well, that would be completely ridiculous, considering they can't read mi-considering it has no factual basis," Hermione blustered.

They both noted that they had stopped walking and were standing parallel to one another in the middle of the sidewalk, completely and utterly rigid with surprise.

They both relaxed, letting out twin, nervous laughs. "We're being ridiculous," Hermione admitted, though, on the inside, she wasn't so sure about that. Tom was known for his good-natured plots.

"Right. No idea where that came from," Ron agreed, and the continued their walk.

Hermione couldn't stand the awkward silence. "You don't _really_ think they've been planning all this out; do you?" she asked.

Ron blew a tuft of hair out of his eyes, shrugging. "I don't know, 'Mione. Probably not. Then again, I don't know much about To-"

"Tom wouldn't," Hermione repeated firmly.

"Right. He would _never_ deceive you," Ron retorted sarcastically.

Hermione glanced at him. "No, he wouldn't; not about something like this."

Ron was intrigued. "Something like this?" he asked, stopping to stare at her. They were in front of the house now, the afternoon sun beating down on them as it made its descent into twilight, which would fade into night.

Hermione stopped, as well, staring back. "Something . . . that . . . Well, you know what I mean," she hurried, rushing to the front door, unlocking it with a simple spell, and entering the house.

Ron was left in the front yard, stunned, silent, and unable to move for fear he would drop the ever-heavy bags in his arms. "No, Hermione. I don't." And he didn't know. She was intent on making sure of that.

**A/N: Wow. Was this chapter LONG, or what? I dunno what happened. It took me a while to get it posted, and I apologize, but I hope you liked it anyway! Review if you like.**


	23. Again

**A/N: Happy New Year! In honor of the beginning of '07, I present you with Chapter 23. I never meant for it to take so long to write. I think I'm stalling because I want this wonderful experience to drag on forever, but alas, that can never be. Sorry for the wait on this chapter though. I hope its length (approximately sixteen full pages, excluding author's notes, in Microsoft Word) makes up for the lengthy wait. Please ignore any grammatical errors; I edited this at 4 AM. Enjoy.**

**Chapter 23**

**Again**

The night before Tom's surprise party was spent chatting, mainly. Ginny and Harry had hidden Tom's gifts and the supplies. Ron had once again ditched his friends to entertain himself in his room. Hermione managed to keep herself focused on the conversations at hand rather than Ron, but it wasn't late in the evening before she excused herself and left Tom alone with his new wizard accomplices. Again.

"Things are going perfectly!" Ginny cheered when she was certain Hermione was out of earshot.

Harry, rubbing his temples tiredly, muttered, "Yea, except for the fact that they aren't speaking to one another. Again."

"Well, _I_ think it's going _very_ well," Ginny reiterated, turning to Tom. "Right, Tom?"

Tom nodded noncommittally. Truth be told, he was no longer sure what he felt about this operation. "But maybe . . . I mean, we _could_ end up hurting them."

Both Harry's and Ginny's heads snapped up.

"What?" Ginny demanded.

Harry looked ready to tell him off, but his face relaxed suddenly; he bowed his head in agreement. "Tom's right."

"_What_?" Ginny repeated.

"Face it, Gin. Tom knows Hermione better than either of us," Harry acknowledged.

"I do?" Tom asked, surprised.

"He _does_?" Ginny gaped at Harry. These gits couldn't let all their hard work go down the tubes!

"Well, he's known her longer than any of us have," Harry reasoned, shrugging.

"I can't _believe_ you two!" Ginny cried, her lips forming into an angry pout. "After _all_ we've done, you just want to _give up_!?"

"Maybe it's not our place," Harry snapped.

"Maybe _you_ need to start taking risks!" Ginny barked back, something in her eyes illustrating that she was no longer talking about the abandoning of their plot.

"Maybe _I _don't want to end up hurting the parties involved," Harry retorted. His and Ginny's eyes locked, and electricity sizzled between them.

Tom felt out of place. "Maybe we could just keep trying," he offered.

Ginny broke the trance and turned to the nervous-looking muggle expectantly.

"Well, I think Hermione will be hurt if nothing happens . . . and if our plan fails. But if we try, and we succeed . . ." He rubbed the back of his neck anxiously.

Harry stared at Tom, who looked helpless and alone. There was more to his hesitation than he was letting on. "You're sure?"

"Harry," Ginny warned. Tom had conceded the point; that was all she needed since, according to Harry, Tom knew all there was to know about Hermione. _All there is to know?_ She knit her brows.

"Yea." Tom sat up straighter. "Besides, Ginny's right; we've come this far; we can't just quit."

"All right then." Harry stood from his chair. "As long as that's settled." His stomach was extremely _un_settled. "I'm off to bed. You two have fun." He somehow managed to keep the bitterness out of his voice.

After Harry departed, Ginny smiled sweetly at Tom, letting out a small laugh. "You scared me for a moment there," she admitted, moving to the loveseat he was sitting in and leaning in for a kiss.

Tom pulled back, disgusted with himself. She stopped her actions confusedly. "Sorry, Ginny. I'm just not . . . I'm going to bed." He hurried to his feet and left the room, seeming more flustered and awkward than usual. Ginny stared after him, falling back against the arm of the small settee disappointedly. Something was going on inside that mysterious muggle's head.

---

Hermione yawned as she stepped off the bottom stair and turned into the hallway, which lead to the kitchen's side door.

The pop of apparation rang in her ears, and she had the gruesome feeling that she knew exactly who was now in the hall with her.

"Hermione!" Ron hissed at her.

Briefly composing herself, she continued her trek to breakfast, fully intent on ignoring him.

"Hermione!" Ron repeated in a whisper, and she felt his hand on her elbow, heat searing through her nerves as she came to a halt. "I've been thinking." His breath was warm just behind her ear, raising the already alert hairs on her neck. "And I realized that Harry and Ginny _have_ been acting rather strange lately." He pulled her against his chest, his voice dropping even lower. "Has Tom been acting off-key?"

Hermione wrestled out of his grasp, huffily straightening her button-up blouse and pivoting to face him. "I have no idea what you're talking about," she bit out, folding her arms over her chest. _He has been acting guilty though._

"Don't you? Or are you just worried that _dearest Tom_ is capable of lying to you?" Ron lashed out, hurt by her response to his touch.

"I'm not _worried_ about anything. Tom _may_ be capable, but that doesn't mean he would." She narrowed her eyes at him pointedly.

"Just watch, Hermione. They're going to find another excuse to leave us alone. It's highly suspicious, whether you like it or not."

"Well, _someone_ has to keep Tom occupied while we plot his surprise party," Hermione reasoned desperately.

"Why does it always have to be Ginny and Harry?" Ron countered.

"Because Ginny and Tom are dating!" Hermione barked, causing Ron to step back in surprise. "They aren't plotting against us, and that's a fact. Get over your incessant suspicion of my best friend! He's not a bad person!" She spun on her heel and huffed away from Ron, into the kitchen.

"You don't know that!" Ron called after her childishly, running a hand over his face when she closed the door behind her. "_I_ don't know that . . ."

---

"Good morning, everyone," Tom said cheerily as he entered the kitchen. He was determined to get over whatever depressing phase he was going through.

Ron raised an eyebrow at him, after tossing Hermione a sour look.

"Happy birthday, Tom!" Hermione exclaimed, her bad mood replaced by a good one in response to Tom's.

Tom sat down next to her, locking her in a casual, one-armed hug. "Thank you, 'Mione, dear. I'd nearly forgotten," he enunciated, grinning.

Hermione laughed, glancing at Ron in time to see him shaking the jealousy off his face. She went slightly pink and took a sip of her tea.

_Look at her, blushing just because despicable Tom is hugging her. It's sickening!_ Ron rose from his chair, slamming his empty mug on the counter before storming out of the room, though the echo of Hermione and Tom's now hushed intercourse followed him all the way through the door and into the next room. In his rush away from the unsightly pair, he nearly knocked over Harry and Ginny, who were breaching the room together, chatting easily.

"Hey, Ron! Just the wizard I wanted to see!" Ginny greeted, seeming unfazed by his rudeness.

Ron scowled. "Whatever it is, no." He attempted to brush past his younger sister, but she grabbed his arm.

"You've got decorating duty," Harry announced.

Ron turned and faced the smirking pair. "_What_?" he whined. "Decorating is a _girl's_ job."

"_Decorating_ is _your_ job for the day," Ginny repeated sweetly.

"And if I refuse?" Ron tilted his chin skyward cockily.

"If you refuse, we won't let you in on the wonderful surprise we have planned for you," Harry offered, giving Ginny a sidelong glance, the slyness of which went unnoticed by her loveable, dense brother.

"Surprise?" the latter fumbled. "For me?"

_Worked like a charm_ Ginny laughed to herself.

_Well, it _will_ be a surprise_ Harry mentally rationalized, to rid himself of any possible guilt.

"Of course. We think you'll really enjoy it," Ginny chirped, nodding enthusiastically, though she doubted that he really would, considering precedent.

"Well, I suppose decorating wouldn't be _so_ bad," Ron muttered, a hopeful gleam in his eyes.

"Fantastic!" Harry and Ginny blurted at once, before glancing at one another and laughing nervously.

Ron's smile faltered. _Could this be part of my theory?_

"Breakfast, anyone?" Harry inquired hurriedly.

"Ooh, yes!" Ginny agreed heartily. "I'm starved!"

Harry and Ginny scurried to the kitchen, leaving a chary Ron in their wake.

---

Ginny remained peculiarly distant from Tom throughout the entire meal, but he did not seem to notice, seeing as he appeared wholly engrossed with Hermione, catering to her every whim and making petty conversation with her every chance he got.

Harry spotted Ginny's bemused frown, and he followed her gaze, which led him to watch Hermione and her muggle more closely than he had before.

Ron ate with an irritable look on his face, and had to force himself not to look at the gross surplus of attention Tom was giving Hermione.

As soon as everyone seemed to have finished off their breakfasts, the troupe headed into the living area.

"Hermione," Ginny called from the back of the procession, briefly catching Harry's reassuring gaze before meeting Hermione's questioning eyes. "Can I talk to you?"

"Sure," Hermione acquiesced with a smile, dismissing Tom, who left her with unanticipated reluctance. "What is it?" the curly-haired woman asked when the door swung shut behind the males.

"I need you to do me a _huge_ favor," Ginny began, flashing her teeth eagerly.

---

Tom sat down in the chair across from where Harry sat, running a hand through his mousy brown hair.

The two old friends watched the muggle with grim countenance.

"So . . ." Tom started, hoping someone would finish his statement.

Ron grunted cynically and turned to glare at the wall.

Harry twiddled his thumbs silently.

Tom let out a minuscule sigh. _I suppose I've been a huge disappointment. "Stealing" both their women . . . though I never really stole Hermione. Unfortunately. _He jolted up in his seat, shocked at his own thoughts. _What is _happening_ to me!?_

Harry observed his display of bewilderment with a raised eyebrow. "Everything all right over there?" he asked almost derisively.

Tom's eyes flicked to him jerkily. "Oh, yea. Just grand," he assured him, his voice shaking slightly.

Ron glowered at him. _Probably just hit on another way to make Hermione fall hopelessly in love with him. **Which is **_**exactly_ what _you_ should be doing._** Ron ignored the persistent voice in his head, which repeatedly told him that he was not doing as much as he should have been to get Hermione to readmit her feelings for him.

---

"Hermione, I can't cook," Ginny declared, her face wanting for the sympathy of others.

Hermione gave her a thoroughly puzzled look.

"I need you to make Tom's birthday cake," the redhead elucidated.

"I'd be happy to," Hermione responded at once, beaming. "I can make his favorite, like I usually do."

Ginny, though pleased at her response (she really had no muggle cooking skills), was still harboring a dubious outlook on Tom and Hermione's relationship, and her satisfied features fell as she stared into Hermione's twinkling eyes. "Hermione, you don't . . ."

Hermione blinked at her obliviously.

"You and Tom . . ."

"If you're trying to tell me that, as a guest, I shouldn't have to cook," Hermione interjected brightly, "you don't have to worry about it. Mum and I cook all the time, at home."

Ginny forced a smile. "That's all I wanted to know. Thank you."

"It's not a problem." _I'm just glad they'll be taking Ron and Tom out together, leaving me in peace._ "What about the main course?"

"Harry and I'll pick it up. We could have er . . . peezo?"

"Pizza?"

"Right."

"One of his favorite dishes. Perfect." Hermione was all smiles as she and Ginny exited the kitchen.

"Harry, we _must_ do something about that gnome infestation you've got in your back garden while Tom and Hermione are here. We could have tea or something there if we fixed it up; it's the perfect weather, after all," Ginny announced vibrantly as she took a seat on the arm of Harry's chair, whence she could easily watch Tom; her pleased look was meant to tell her coconspirators that she had succeeded.

Sure enough, within seconds of Hermione grudgingly seating herself next to Ron, Tom's gaze had shifted in her direction, though his appreciative glance appeared more worried than lustful.

"Must we?" Harry asked, finding it extremely difficult to keep flirtation out of his voice.

"Yes," Ginny answered, cracking a grin.

Ron glanced at Hermione, briefly meeting her eyes before she looked away, cheeks glowing. **_You aren't doing enough._** He rubbed his temples. _I have to try _something_. I can't sit here and let Tom snatch her from my life._

"It's truly awful back there," Ginny carried on playfully.

"Oh, so now you're criticizing my gardening skills?" Harry rebutted just as teasingly, nudging her softly.

"Ye-"

"Hermione, may I have a word with you in the kitchen?" Ron asked, his voice strong and somewhat urbane, with an undercurrent of uncertainty.

Hermione turned to him, eyes fearful. "Yes." Her tone was breathless.

Ron took her hand and pulled her from her seat chivalrously, causing her cheeks to darken to a crimson hue.

"I'll come with you," Tom offered, rising from his seat, as well, as the pair headed to the kitchen door.

"Alone," Ron snarled, turning to give Tom a nasty glare.

Harry's and Ginny's eyes met, and their lips curved upward in matching mischievous smiles.

"Way to almost put your foot in it, Tom," Harry bit out harshly as soon as the door shut behind the obviously nervous pair.

"Harry!" Ginny scolded, though, as she eyed Tom, she wasn't as serious about the reprimand as she probably would have been previously.

---

Hermione whirled to face Ron immediately upon the door closing; her heart was breaking the speed limit. "What did you want to speak to me about?" she asked, her eyes wide and her stance defensive.

Ron noted her opposition to being called out by him and smiled warmly. "I need your help with something," he uttered, amazed that he had come up with this plan in so little time.

Hermione nearly sighed in relief. Ron watched her, unable to rid himself of the light feeling in his gut. She looked at him expectantly, unraveled by his contented silence. "Well, what is it?" she asked almost impatiently.

"I have _no_ idea how to decorate for a muggle birthday party."

Hermione's eyebrows shot to the ceiling. "_You're_ decorating for Tom's party?" she interrogated incredulously.

Ron smiled ardently. "Yep."

"But-" She paused to shake her head. "That means you'd be _here_, with me, while I make his cake."

Ron frowned. "Wait . . ."

"I thought they'd be taking you with them to distract Tom," Hermione continued, eyes wide; she did _not_ want to spend any more time in Ron's disquieting presence than necessary, especially not alone.

"They set us up!" Ron cried, his temper flaring. "I _told_ you, Hermione. They're trying to get us alone as much as possible!"

"Ron, that's ridiculous!" Hermione barked back.

"Is it?" Ron demanded. "Why else would Harry and Ginny ask _me_ to decorate?"

Hermione was stumped, but her mind raced for an excuse. "Well-maybe-I'd bet they just want you to learn more about muggle culture."

"Ginny and Harry care about my knowledge of muggles," Ron stated skeptically.

"Well, it's possi-" Ron wrenched open the kitchen door determinedly.

"Ginny, get in here," he growled at his younger sister, who gave Harry a concerned look before following orders. She skirted past Ron and into the kitchen. Hermione stared at her apologetically.

"What?" Ginny asked, looking at her brother curiously.

"Hermione and I know you've been plotting this whole thing out." Ron chose not to bother with a polite preamble.

Ginny laughed. "What are you talking about?" She felt her hands go clammy.

"You, Harry, and Tom have been planning it all from the beginning, haven't you." Ron paced around her, scrutinizing, searching for a surplus of blinks or a shift of the eye; he _would_ get his answers.

"I really don't know what-"

"You've been leaving us alone together every chance you get lately-"

"Ron-"

"First at the Leaky Cauldron, then when Hermione was ill. You made us go shopping together, and now _this_!? I suppose you didn't expect us to notice at all; right!?"

"Ron, half those things are just coincidence; the rest are product of what was convenient at the time." Ginny forced a straight face while Ron stared at her. "And I don't know what you mean by, 'this'," she added.

"Why did you pick _me_ to decorate for Tom's party?" Ron demanded.

Ginny almost faltered, but she caught herself. "I thought it would be beneficial for you to enjoy muggle culture on M-A Day," she contended coolly.

"That's _exactly_ what _I _said," Hermione butted in, shooting Ron a dark look; she was still highly against being alone with him again.

"Well, Hermione's right," Ginny decreed matter-of-factly.

Ron made a noise of disgust. "As usual." **_What are you _doing**

Hermione huffed, arms crossing over her torso defiantly. "Well, I'll have you know that, even if it is for a good cause, I refuse to stay here with _him_."

"Me, too." Ron tilted his chin defiantly, looking more childish than ever. _**WHAT?** Ginny'll come up with an excuse anyway.** You shouldn't have called her in here in the first place. This is exactly what you wanted!** But it's not what Hermione wants, and I'd rather Hermione's unhappiness be on _Ginny's_ conscience than mine.** Selfish git. **I know you are, but what am I? **Your silence on this issue certainly couldn't hurt!** _

"Aw, come on, guys. We don't have much of a choice!" Ginny pleaded.

"Why can't _you_ decorate and send Ron with Harry and Tom?" Hermione pressed, her voice taking on a slightly whiny note. "It could be a girls' day in."

Ginny laughed, having a hard time picturing Hermione _ever_ enjoying a "girls' day," in _or_ out. "Hermione, Tom and I have very little time to spend together; you're both leaving on Tuesday!" It was a lame excuse, considering the lack of mutual attraction now circulating between the two, but it would have to do.

"Then Harry can stay and decorate!" Hermione suggested wildly, desperately.

"Harry?" Ginny raised an eyebrow at Hermione's fervent nodding. "That wizard hasn't got an aesthetic bone in his body."

"Well, it doesn't have to be visually pleasing, just festive!" Hermione defended, surprised at Ron's silence; he should have been heartily agreeing with her since he had no more desire to be in her company than she had to be in his.

Ginny shook her head. "No, Hermione. Besides, he already has experience with muggle culture, whereas _Ron_ has none."

"Excuse me," Ron interjected, figuring Hermione would more than expect a statement from him. "But it's _little_ to none, not _none_." _He_ thought he'd sounded rather witty, but apparently, Hermione didn't agree.

"And even if he has a _negative_ amount of knowledge, I shouldn't have to put up with him for hours on end," she declared, sniffing disdainfully as Ron gave her an appalled, irritated look.

"_Hermione_, it's not _that_ bad. I had to live with him my entire _life_! I think you can manage a few _hours_." Ginny's voice had gone stern.

"I _am_ right here, you know," Ron pointed out, peeved at their third-person discussion of him.

"Then say something, Ron! You don't want to have to deal with my incessant nagging anymore than _I_ want to deal with _your_ incessant apathy." Hermione gave him a beseeching look, her brown eyes sparkling.

Ron's stomach coiled, and his ears went pink. "Well, actually, I brought you in here to ask for your help," he admitted again. "Like I said before, I don't know how muggles decorate for these kinds of . . . gatherings."

Ginny's eyebrows shot up.

"Well, it's really very simple, but if Ginny would just agree to stay and do it instead, you wouldn't have to learn how we-"

"What if I sort of-" Ron paused to swallow. "_wanted_ to learn this . . . stuff?" Ginny and Hermione were agape. "I might need to know it someday!" he added hurriedly.

"I . . ." Hermione gathered herself. "Certainly, Ginny could teach you sometime." She looked imploringly at Ginny, who had taken three years of muggles studies in finishing school. _Please._

"Hermione, it wouldn't be that bad. We _need_ you." Ginny batted her eyelashes and pouted, managing to look innocent and forlorn.

Hermione, after a final glance at an oddly expectant-looking Ron, let out an almighty sigh. "I suppose it wouldn't hurt." _But it _will_ hurt. Even looking at him right now hurts._

---

"The flour and caster sugar are in the cupboard above the cooker, pastry bowls and baking pans to the right of it, eggs and such in the refrigerator, other dry ingredients in the cupboard to the right of the refrigerator, and the decorations are in the top drawer to the _left_ of the refrigerator," Ginny listed breathlessly; preparing for an outing the muggle way had proved shockingly time-consuming and difficult. "All right?" She anxiously glanced between her two listeners.

Ron nodded, forcing the grin from his lips. _I've won.** Well, almost.**_

"You're sure you can't stay?" Hermione tried again, as Ginny turned for the door.

"Yes, Hermione. I'm sorry," the female redhead rushed, pushing open the door. "We should be back in two to four hours; that should give you enough time?"

Hermione shrugged in affirmation.

"Then we're off. Toodles!" Ginny's chipper voice echoed as the door shut behind her.

In the distance, Tom yelled a dedicated goodbye to Hermione, and she briefly hollered back before wiping shaking hands on her previously tied apron. "Ready to learn?" she asked Ron, managing to keep her voice from wavering.

Ron nodded, taking the package of streamers from the drawer next to the refrigerator and holding it up. "All ready."

"All right." She turned toward him before halting. "On second thought, I'd better prepare the cake before we get started," she decreed, heading to the stove.

"Anything I can do to help?" Ron asked, and Hermione peered at him over her shoulder, eyes searching. He looked back at her, face blank.

Exasperatedly letting out a breath of air, she shrugged. "You can get the eggs, butter and chocolate out of the refrigerator and the shortening, baking powder, baking soda, salt, cinnamon, and vanilla out of the cupboard to the right," she directed hurriedly.

Ron reached for the door handle before pausing with a laugh. "Sorry, I didn't catch all that."

Hermione sighed, choosing anger over longing appreciation. She repeated the list--more slowly, this time--while distractedly standing on the tips of her toes in an attempt to pull the bags of flour and sugar from the cupboard high above the stove. Ron watched her, the list going over his head as his eyes drifted the pale expanse of skin between the surprisingly low waistline of her jeans and where her blouse had lifted with her arm. Snapping into action, he strode to her side, deftly plucking the bags from the shelf and holding them in front of her.

She glanced up at him before scowling at the offered items. "I could have gotten them myself," she grumbled, snatching them from his hands; truthfully, her fingers had barely grazed the sides of the bags.

"Sorry," Ron sarcastically snapped in return, stalking back to the refrigerator and retrieving the ingredients, with another recitation from Hermione, who was busy pulling the mixing bowls from a lower cupboard and preheating the oven.

"So, what are you going to do with these things?" Ron inquired, setting his armful on the counter.

Hermione quirked an eyebrow at him. "I'm going to mix them in a bowl," she stated as if talking to a small child. "Wizards do it, too, just not by hand."

"Oh," Ron muttered, dropping his head. _I can be conniving, too._

"You can't honestly tell me you've never baked-well-_anything_ before!" Hermione asked incredulously, spinning to face him.

"It's not that big of a deal," Ron replied. _I should be an actor, now that I think of it. Muggles always need actors to support their growing telvyision industry._

"You've _got_ to be kidding. Your mum's never forced you to cook with her? Ginny didn't show you how-"

"No, all right!?" Ron glowered at her before softening and making up an excuse for this obviously ridiculous claim. "Mum's more the 'women should do the domestic work' type, and Ginny couldn't care less about my cooking ability."

Things went exactly as planned; Hermione took pity on him. "Well . . . I suppose, if you wanted to be educated on this type of thing, I could . . . show you."

Ron brightened. "Really?"

Hermione nodded warmly, accidentally bestowing him with a bit of constrained affection. "You will need to learn _someday_," she reasoned, turning back to the counter. She cleared her throat when he didn't move. "Get over here so you can learn, Ronald." The grin she tossed over her shoulder mellowed the harshness of her formality, and he moved next to her, standing close enough to make her uncomfortable, but not close enough to make her move.

"Step one," Hermione began, holding up the baking pan. "Grease the pan with the-" She grabbed the container of shortening. "-shortening."

Ron did as instructed, and Hermione struggled not to stare at him as he fumbled with the aluminum pan. His clumsiness truly was adorable, and the focused look on his face made her want him all the more.

Finally, he had completed the task, and he smiled at her triumphantly. "Next?"

"Next, get the smallest pastry bowl." Hermione listed the needed items and amounts thereof, carefully showing Ron what each measuring cup and spoon meant, until he had filled the bowl with flour, baking powder, baking soda, and salt. While he filled the bowl, she moved to the stove and put the chocolate in a pot to melt, stirring it every so often.

"Now what?" he asked as soon as the ingredients had been added.

"Now, mix," she replied, still dubious as to how he could have avoided this ordeal before.

"How?"

Hermione looked at him. "With a _spoon_," she prompted, gesturing to one of the aforementioned lying on the counter.

Ron stared at her helplessly. "Isn't there some special way you have to do it?"

"You just have to make sure it's evenly combined."

"Er . . ."

"Here," Hermione snapped tiredly, reaching for the bowl. "Just let me do it."

"No, Hermione. _I_ want to do it. Show me," Ron supplicated, pouting slightly.

Hermione clenched her jaw. "Fine." Taking the spoon and the bowl, she stirred the ingredients carefully. "See?"

"Oh, _I_ get it," Ron answered. "Let me have a go."

Rolling her eyes, Hermione set the bowl on the counter and turned to the melting chocolate.

"Like this?" Ron swiped the spoon down the diameter of the bowl and back, looking at Hermione expectantly.

"No. More circular motions," Hermione directed, forcing patience.

"Right. Like _this_." Ron scraped the spoon around the rim of the bowl.

"Stir _all_ of it, Ron."

Ron nodded, his face scrunching up in concentration as he tossed little puffs of flour into the air and watched the land in the center.

"_No_. God, it's not that difficult!" Hermione grabbed his hand and directed it around the bowl, hardly realizing what she was doing. She looked at him irately. "Do you . . ." The expression in his eyes as he stared down at her was perturbing. "Do you understand?"

"Perfectly." He shifted his hand underneath hers. "Thanks."

She moved away from him hurriedly, praising the moment when the others would return.

---

"I really can't believe Ron figured it out," Harry commented as the trio walked down the road, Tom and Ginny with fingers entwined, Harry at Tom's left.

"I know," Ginny agreed. "I would've pegged Hermione to be the one to catch on, but she doesn't even _suspect_!"

"Well, she's in denial enough as it is," Tom pitched in vaguely.

"True," Harry muttered.

"Ron seemed oddly anxious to be alone with her though," Tom added, sounding almost dissatisfied.

Ginny raised an eyebrow at him. "That's an improvement; isn't it?"

Harry glanced at them upon hearing the undercurrent of accusation in her voice.

"Well, yes. Of course!" Tom replied a bit too quickly, face void of all but alarm.

Ginny liberated him of her scrutiny by looking in the opposite direction, loosening her grip on his hand.

Harry frowned. Wheels were turning in Ginny's head, and he had a feeling he knew the conclusion to which they were coming.

"We're buying pizza," Ginny declared, dropping Tom's hand altogether and peering around him at Harry.

"Wicked." Harry smiled at her supportively. _Everything'll be fine_ he told himself.

"I'm sure everything's going perfectly back at the house," Ginny declared, giving Harry a reassuring look. Their connection seemed to have grown stronger after all these years.

---

While Hermione put the cake in the oven, Ron excused himself, sneaking a glass of milk upstairs and to his room, where Bugger, still slightly malnourished and sleeping to regain his health, was curled up on his bed.

"Hey, Bugger," Ron whispered, softly nudging the kitten awake. "I brought some food for you." He fed the feline conscientiously, pondering how brilliantly his plan to get Hermione to teach him how to cook had gone. Her suspicion had not been enough to keep her from reaching out and helping him.

He left his room, excited to get back and have Hermione educate him more on muggle culture, however ridiculous it seemed; plus, he loved how much it unnerved her to have to explain things repeatedly.

"Time to decorate?" he asked when he entered the kitchen, where Hermione was unwrapping the package of streamers while leaning against the counter.

"Yes. Let's go." The coldness in her voice dispatched some of his contentment, and he followed her to the table quietly.

"We're going to need a stepladder," Hermione muttered more to herself than Ron, looking up at the fairly high ceilings.

"You could just use a chair," Ron suggested.

Hermione shrugged, using the table to support her as she stepped onto one of the tall, sturdy, oak chairs Harry had situated around the equally robust table. "I think there was a roll of tape in that drawer." She pointed at the slightly ajar drawer next to the fridge.

Ron handed Hermione the tape, and she stuck a piece to one end of the streamers and taped it to the ceiling, near the center of the table. "You have to start near the center," she murmured, stepping back to the floor. "And you twist it-" She gave the package a quick spin before ripping the streamers and another piece of tape and attaching the display to the table. "And tape it either to the table or to another place on the ceiling."

"Easy enough," Ron recognized, taking the package and stepping on a chair, his head almost touching the ceiling as he did so. The first few streamers he put up were slightly askew, but Hermione dismissed them as adequate and moved back to the stove to start making the frosting for Tom's cake.

The medley of streamers hanging from the ceiling by the time Hermione had finished stirring the frosting was nothing short of laughable, but Hermione looked at it with a straight face before turning to Ron. "Get the stepladder out of the pantry in the hall and decorate the living room."

Ron's delighted look fell from his face. "You_ could_ say please, you know," he bit out angrily.

"All right. _Please_." The sincerity of this addition was belied by Hermione's irritated smirk. "Now go. We've only got about two hours before Tom gets back, and we still need to decorate the cake and set the table."

Ron left the room without another word, dragging the stepladder from the well-stocked cupboard in the hallway and setting it next to the loveseat in the living room, planning to center his decorations where the group would most likely be sitting after dinner.

He stepped up on the ladder, managing to get many streamers hung before having to move the ladder. He could hear the beeping of the timer on the cake and paused to listen to Hermione banging pans and bowls around in the kitchen; she sounded upset. He wondered at her sudden aloofness agitatedly, climbing the small ladder again. He reached to his left to tape the outer end of another streamer, and proportionately, his weight was extremely unbalanced. He found himself toppling to the ground, ladder clanging as it was upturned. He landed on his back and felt his skull hit the thin carpet before all went black.

---

"He's breathing!" Harry yelled, unable to stop the onslaught of tears. "He's alive!"

"He's-he's alive!?" Hermione cried, scrambling to Harry's side and clutching Ron's cold hand. She felt his wrist gingerly. "He's got a pulse. We need to get him to St. Mungo's."

Harry nodded in agreement, holding Hermione's hand as they both grabbed Ron and apparated to the wizard hospital. As the nurses situated Ron on a stretcher, Hermione allowed herself one good look at him, pulling him into her arms. "You're going to be all right," she whispered into his ear, tears glistening in her eyes.

"Tom, what toppings would you like?" Ginny asked, her tone indicating she was repeating the question.

Tom shook his head, trying to come back to the present. _She loved-_loves_ him so much._ "Uh . . . pepperoni," he replied distractedly.

Harry watched him speculatively from across the table. They were sitting in a new, London pub just down the road from the Leaky Cauldron, listening to the rain pitter-pattering against the windowpane and deciding what kind of pizza to get. Tom had not been paying attention to this, apparently, and judging by the expression he wore, his thoughts had not been altogether pleasant.

"I think pepperoni with mushrooms-" Harry began.

"Do you really think this is going to work?" Tom interrupted.

Ginny gave him a silencing look. "If it works, it works. Quit fixating on it."

Harry raised his eyebrows.

"I'm not _fixating_," Tom defended dryly. "I'm just mentioning it is all."

"You haven't offered any conversational points other than questions about those two, and, personally, I'd like to think we can enjoy a round of drinks without thinking about my hopeless brother and his love interest." Ginny's clipped speech worried both the men sitting with her, and Tom clamped his mouth shut.

"Right." Harry glanced between the muggle and his friend nervously. "I think pepperoni and mushrooms would make a good combination."

"Sounds fine to me," Ginny agreed, glaring out the window and into the rainy street.

Tom rubbed his temples tiredly. _She's driving me mad._ The only problem with that mental statement was that he knew he didn't mean Ginny.

---

Ron opened his eyes just as Hermione was entering the room. His little blackout apparently wasn't too serious, since he had already woken up.

"Ron, what was that--" Upon seeing Ron lying on the floor, attempting to sit up while holding his head, Hermione rushed to his side, eyes wide. "Are you all right?"

Ron smiled at her, wincing as he felt the knot on the back of his head. "I'm fine. Just lost my balance."

Hermione knelt by him. "Don't you dare scare me like that again, Ronald," she ordered breathlessly, clutching his hand and helping him to his feet.

"I think there's something wrong with that thing," he grumbled, gesturing to the stepladder lying on its side on the floor as he made his way to the loveseat, a warm feeling spreading within him as he noted surreptitiously that Hermione was still holding his hand.

Hermione rolled her worry-tinted eyes as they sat down. "There's nothing wrong with the stepladder. You just weren't being careful," she berated.

"Oh really?" Ron countered. "I'd like to see you try using that thing."

"Must we do this?" Hermione sighed, standing and situating the stepladder.

Apprehensively, Ron rose to his feet as she snatched the streamers, getting one end taped quite easily. She reached for the same region, with which Ron had had such trouble before and, unable to reach it from that location, began stepping down to move the ladder. "All you have to do is move the ladder when you need to--" She let out a shriek as she lost her balance and slipped off the perch, expecting to hit the ground painfully. She squeezed her eyes shut, her stomach taking a sickening plummet as she fell. With a jolt, she was aware that she was no longer falling, and she ventured to open her eyes, finding herself pressed against the cotton of none other than Ron Weasley's T-shirt. Her breath hitched in her throat as her gaze drifted along his jaw, past his smiling lips and to his glittering eyes.

"I suppose there really is something wrong with the ladder, eh?" he asked, something in his tone suggesting uneasiness as he pulled her closer to his chest, shifting her in the bridal-style hold in which he cradled her.

Hermione managed to breathe but couldn't form words. She merely felt the blush rising to her cheeks and the strength of his arms. Swallowing, she forced a, "Thank you."

Ron peered down at her, willing her to look away, but she was riveted. "I'm going to kiss you," he warned huskily.

Hermione merely stared at him, aware that he was leaning in to kiss her, her heart fluttering as his breath mingled with hers.

Ron allowed his eyes to close as soon as hers did. They were millimeters apart from one another, heat searing between them. This was it.

Ron's eyes snapped open when he heard Hermione's voice, and everything had changed.

"God, Ron, wake up," Hermione was whispering, clutching his upper body to her chest desperately. "_Please_."

Ron could still feel the heat that had been coursing through him; his heart was still hammering in his chest, but this change of scenery jolted him awake and back into the bleak, uneventful, tense reality. He was still on the floor, Hermione kneeling at his side and anxiously begging him to open his eyes. " 'Mione?" he asked, blinking to rid himself of the memories of his passionate dream.

"Ron!" Hermione exclaimed, her voice high-pitched. She pulled away to look into his eyes. "Don't scare me like that," she pleaded sincerely.

"How long was I out?" he asked, still disoriented.

"No more than a minute," Hermione replied, pulling him to her again. "What happened?"

"I lost my balance on that cursed stepladder," Ron muttered, finding himself grumpy at having awoken from his wonderful dream so soon.

"You should have been more careful," she chastised. Ron marveled at how predictable she was.

"Careful, Hermione. Someone might think you were actually worried," he murmured as she held him tighter; actions were stronger than words.

Hermione forced back tears; she had been more afraid for Ron than he was ever allowed to know. She silently rested her chin atop his ruffled red hair, knowing very well that this was probably too close, but seeing him there, lying on the ground, as still as stone, had rocketed her blood pressure. She had been extremely relieved to find that he was still breathing, though rather raggedly. The thirty seconds he had been out had stretched on forever, and she was immensely grateful that he was awake again.

However, there was something familiar about the position in which they sat on the floor, Hermione kneeling, Ron fairly limp in her arms. She realized what exactly she was distantly recalling, and the unshed tears forced themselves into little pools along the lower rims of her chestnut eyes. She felt every emotion she had felt the day Ron had died rippling to the surface of her psyche, and she took a deep breath to steady herself. It was no use; Ron was drowning her with his presence, his relaxed weight against her. "You're all right?" she choked out, rising to her feet after carefully letting go of Ron; she couldn't take it, losing him again. She had to get away.

Ron heard the tight note in her voice and peered up at her, trying to sit up. "Are you?"

Hermione wasn't able to get out an answer before she noticed the tears making their way down her flushed cheeks, and she bolted, shouldering her way through the kitchen door and bracing herself on the counter where her cake was resting. She let out a pathetic sob, assuring herself that she was thankful that Ron had not come running in after her, as he certainly should have. _Stop crying, you fool. You've got a wonderful party to finish preparing for. So, stop _blubbering_ and finish decorating Tom's cake._

Instead of following Hermione, Ron sat on the floor of the living room, running a hand through his hair. _What has gotten into her?_ he asked himself silently, letting out a sigh. _**Go ask her.** She wouldn't want me to see her upset. **They want you to follow them. **They? **Women.** Hermione's not your typical woman._ Ron's bothersome conscience had nothing to say to that, and he settled for rising to his feet and cleaning up what remained of the streamers and tape and taking the stepladder back to the pantry. It would be best for him to ignore the soft sounds of Hermione wailing in the kitchen, he told himself.

---

"Harry, you go around the back and make sure Hermione's got everything ready," Ginny instructed. "I'll 'stall' Tom out front until you send Ron to give us the go ahead and invite us in. And if they ask, which I doubt they will, you only had the key to the back door with you."

"You've certainly put a lot of thought into this," Harry acknowledged almost admiringly.

"This is my big brother we're talking about; his lack of thought requires constant compensation through the thoughtfulness of others." Ginny flashed Harry a heart-stopping smile before turning dourly to Tom and making petty conversation.

As he made his way around his house, Harry insisted that this reversal of attention did not please him in any way.

He balanced the pizza box in one hand, unlocked the back door with the other and entered, wary of a hurried verse, which he didn't understand, being uttered in his kitchen. He closed the door behind him and peered around the corner, spotting Hermione on a tiny, muggle cell phone, speaking easily in French. She forced a smile at him and gave him a look, which told him to wait just a moment while she wrapped up the conversation. "Merci. Au revoir." She flipped the phone shut and put it in her pocket before turning to Harry, tight-lipped in spite of her attempt at cheerfulness. "We're ready," she informed, straightening her blouse and reaching for the prettily-wrapped gift on the counter behind her.

"Is everything all right?" Harry inquired; he got the feeling that their plan had failed. Miserably.

"Oh, yes," Hermione assured him. "The cake came out wonderfully, and I'm certain Tom will love the decorations."

Harry was slightly disappointed that Hermione didn't feel she could open up to him. "Right. Well, we have to send Ron to open the front door; that's where they're waiting."

Hermione's stomach knotted at the mention of Ron. "Would you mind asking him?" she inquired casually, inspecting Tom's gift as a way of avoiding Harry's interrogative gaze. "I believe there's a piece of ripped paper here, and I'd like to tape it down before we give Tom the gift."

"All right," Harry replied cautiously, adjourning to living room, where Ron sat, staring blankly at a wall and fiddling absently with a stray piece of streamer. He appeared to be very deep in thought, his brow furrowed over distant eyes.

"Ron," Harry interrupted reluctantly, relieved when Ron gave him a smile as opposed to a scowl. Of course, the latter expression came into play when Harry told Ron of his mission.

---

Tom and Ginny sat awkwardly on the steps in front of Grimmauld Place after Harry left them, both knowing that their romance, however brief, was over. It was Tom, who chose to bring it into the open.

"Er, Ginny . . . I don't think we should . . . continue . . ." He searched for an appropriate description of what they had been doing. It hadn't been dating; it hadn't been sleeping together; it had been a brief snog and cutesy, hand-holding display of affection, the kind of relationship perfect for people in love with someone else.

"This?" Ginny finished finally, letting out a wry laugh. Tom seemed a bit worried about her vitriolic response, and she softened slightly, sighing. "I suppose you're right."

A miniscule portion of the awkwardness lifted, still leaving them sitting in tense silence, but taking away the biting feeling of stringing one's lover along, especially when both parties know everything's gone to pot. "It was good though," Tom muttered at length, offering a small smile.

"Yea, it was," Ginny agreed with a nod.

Both seemed to be looking for a subject to break the newly-formed ice, but there was something Ginny had to say, even if it was gauche.

"You love her; don't you," she stated more than questioned.

Tom forced a laugh. "Love who?" The crack in his voice betrayed the guise of his ignorance.

"Hermione," Ginny replied anyway, her voice sounding almost tired.

Tom looked ready to respond in the negative, but suddenly, his ever-present grin fell, and he shrugged sadly. "Is it that obvious?"

"Up until a couple days ago, no." Ginny looked him in the eye, guarded frown in place. "You aren't going to try and sabotage our plan, are you?"

Tom shook his head. "I wouldn't do that to her." His eyes took on a particularly hopeless hue before he averted them. "She loves him."

"And he loves her," Ginny assured him, reaching out to take his hand; she was grateful to him. "You're doing the right thing."

_Whenever people say that, it makes the action seem so much worse._ "I just want her to be happy . . . even if it's not with me."

Gratitude overtook Ginny, though she had been mentally loathing Tom only moments before. She wrapped her arms around him comfortingly, wishing all men could be as virtuous as he was.

"I want you to be happy, too," Tom proclaimed suddenly, still trapped in Ginny's embrace. "And I can't say you've been too sneaky in your true affections, either."

Ginny pulled away inquiringly, though she felt she knew what he was hinting.

"Harry?" he suggested, his grin back, in full bloom.

Ginny sighed. "Harry," she accepted, turning to stare at the sinking sun in the distance.

"At least you've got a chance," Tom supplied optimistically. "You can still convince heroic, witty, loyal Harry Potter that he's utterly in love with you."

Ginny nudged him from the side. "And you can still find another woman who's just as smart, pretty, and caring as Hermione and convince her of the same."

"Alas, we're both getting old," Tom quipped. "Best to do the deeds as soon as possible."

"I am not _old_!" Ginny cried laughingly.

"Well, I am. I'm doomed to be an old bachelor, living all by my lonesome in the apartment I used to share with the woman I love--loved," he amended. "Because I _will_ get over my feelings, in time," he explained.

"Trust me, it's not as easy as it seems," Ginny warned.

"And _that's_ not a foreboding statement," Tom replied sarcastically, chuckling.

"Well, not real--"

The door creaked open behind the pair, and they both turned to see a grim Ron holding it open. "Harry told me you were locked out." Pivoting away from them, he stalked back into the living room.

"That's a bad sign," Ginny whispered.

"Very," Tom agreed.

The pair entered the house and trailed after Ron, into the living room. They were met with colorful decorations and a beaming Harry and Hermione. Ron apparently felt no inclination to smile.

"Surprise!" Harry and Hermione exclaimed with Ron's simultaneous grumbling of the word.

"Happy birthday, Tom," Hermione congratulated, stepping forward with a gift in hand. "I know you've always wanted to go back to France, so tomorrow, that's where we're headed."

The laughter and smiles in the room all instantly died.

Harry and Ginny gaped at Tom, whose eyes were wide, and Ron just glared, looking ready to explode with anger.

"F-France?" Tom stuttered, making a quick decision. "Well, that's wonderful!"

**A/N: My baby will be all grown up soon. Out, on her own, with no one to guide her. -sniffles- It's almost completely depressing. I hope the next chapter doesn't take as long to write as this one did, but we'll just have to see. Review if you like.**


	24. City of Love

**A/N: On this, the third anniversary of the original posting of this story, I present to you fine readers the long-overdue and final chapter of "Meet My Muggle." Enjoy.**

**Chapter 24**

**City of Love**

"France!?" Ginny had cornered Tom in his bedroom, eyes ablaze. The "party" had ended an hour earlier, though Ron had left as soon as Tom had accepted Hermione's travel invitation; both events were much to Hermione's ostensible relief. Harry and Ginny had watched in silence as Hermione had animatedly explained the details of the trip, down to the exact room in which she and Tom would be staying at the hotel; she had proceeded to apologize profusely to Harry for having cut their visit short.

"I thought you said you weren't going to sabotage--"

"I'm not," Tom interjected, the gears in his head spinning recklessly. "I have a plan . . ." _Well, I will, in time._

"You'd better," Ginny snarled threateningly, backing away, as if afraid she might hit him if she stayed any longer. As she spun and left, slamming the door behind her, Tom could hear her seething mutterings of, "He'd better . . . taking him to the city of love . . . not what I'd hoped for at all."

Tom fell back on his bed with a groan. He didn't even possess the _beginnings_ of a "plan."

"Tom?" His blood pressure rocketed when Hermione's voice met his ears. In the quarter hour since Ginny had left, he had made no headway whatsoever.

"Come in," he called wearily, throwing one arm over his eyes as the door creaked open.

"Are you all right?" Hermione asked, the bed whining as she sat down next to him, placing a tentative hand on his arm

"I'm fine," Tom assured her. Hermione didn't respond, but he could feel her stare. With a dramatic sigh, he whipped his arm away from his face, sitting up to look at her. "Why are we going to France?"

Hermione blinked at him. "I thought you liked France. When we went there the summer before last--"

"No, I mean, why are we going to France instead of staying _here_, with your friends?"

Hermione shifted nervously under his penetrating gaze but managed to angle her chin defiantly. "You can't take too much time off work, and this is my birthday present to you. We're cutting our visit here short because I thought you would want to go back to Paris."

Seeing the desperate, hurt look in his friend's eyes, Tom's aggressive, interrogative physiognomy faded into something more compassionate. "This wouldn't have anything to do with Ron, would it?" he inquired softly.

"Of course not!" Hermione barked. Tom raised his eyebrows at her sharp response. "I'm doing this for you," she repeated helplessly. "It's your birthday, and all I got you otherwise was a book--"

"Which I _loved_, by the way. We don't have to leave just because it's my birthday; I'm having enough fun as it is. Besides, you probably want to stay and keep catching up with Harry and Ron and Ginny."

A look of realization crossed Hermione's face, and she nodded. "You could ask Ginny if she wants to join--"

"We broke up, so to speak," Tom informed readily, moving to sit more comfortably, his knee quite noticeably brushing hers.

Hermione's sympathy was immediate. "Oh, Tom, I'm so sorry. This is probably my fault. I didn't mean--"

"Hermione." Tom took her hand in his, pondering how self-assured she had been before Ron's death. "If it's anyone's fault, it's mine. Besides, it's quite apparent that Ginny's in love with Harry."

Hermione shrugged in agreement, though she still harbored a guilt-ridden expression.

"Are you certain you want to go through with this trip to Paris?" Tom asked, knowing just who she was thinking about at that moment.

Hermione squeezed his hand before answering, her eyes vacant when she looked at him. "Yes." He opened his mouth to speak, but she cut him off with a quick, "Don't say it won't solve my problems, Tom. I don't know what else I can do." Before he was able to see her tears, she pulled her hand from his and apparated out of the room.

Tom collapsed into his pillows. He could still feel the touch of her fingers against his skin, and he closed his eyes in the hopes that it would go away. It wasn't that he didn't want to go to France; it was the company that was the problem, not that he didn't love Hermione even more than Paris--because he did--but fleeing England, for however long or short a period was _not_ going to solve her problems in the least, and she knew it as well as the rest of them did. _Paris won't solve her problems . . . problem . . . _Tom sat straight up, eyes wide. "That's _it_!" he exclaimed to himself, springing to his feet and grinning like a madman. If Ron, and Hermione's love thereof, was the problem, then Tom would solve it.

A nervous knot twisting in his abdomen, Tom exited his room, rapidly making his way down the hall. He paused in front of Hermione's door, lingering just long enough to hear her muffled weeping and feel his heart clench, before he picked up his pace and sprinted further. He came to the desired door and halted resolutely, allowing himself one calming breath before raising his fist and rapping on the oak door.

"If it's Ginny or Harry, go away," Ron called from within.

Tom knocked again.

"I _said_--"

"It's Tom," Tom interjected.

There was a hurried shuffling and a slam in the room before the door was wrenched open, and Tom came face-to-face with an extremely irate Ron. "What the _hell_ do you want?" the latter demanded, nostrils flaring.

"I came to--"

"To what? Make my life even _more_ miserable, you muggle bastard!?" Ron took an intimidating step closer.

Tom shriveled slightly. "No, I want--"

"It seems to me that you _have_ everything you want, so if you could just leave me alone, I'd very much appreciate--"

Tom slammed his hand against the door, which Ron had been inching shut since the beginning of the conversation. "I want to apologize," he declared forcefully.

Ron gripped the door, blinking away shock. "Well, I don't accept your apology," he asserted portentously.

"I've also got a proposal to make--" Tom stopped as he forced the door open again. _I see exactly why she's called him immature in the past._ "If you would just _listen_ to me, I think you'll find it's quite reasonable!"

Ron shouldered the door halfway closed. "If you want to marry Hermione, go ahead! I don't give a da--"

Tom tried to keep the door open by pressing his back against it and speaking over his shoulder. "That's not what I came here for at all! This proposal is about you and me making amends and working together!"

A disgusted Ron stepped away from the door, and it flew open, sending Tom straight to the floor. "I would _never_ marry--"

"I'm not asking you to marry me, idiot!" Tom gawked up at him, awed by how ludicrous he was being. "I have a deal for you. If you would _listen_ instead of acting like a _child_, maybe we could actually get around to _discussing_ it!" He inhaled sharply, shaking his head in desperation. "_Please_?"

Ron stood sullenly for a moment, arms crossed over his chest, brow furrowed over white-hot flame eyes. "Fine." His scowl deepened at Tom's hopeful smile. "I'll _listen_, but that doesn't mean I'll agree."

"Oh, you'll agree," Tom assured him, scrambling to his feet.

--

Paris was truly exquisite. It was vibrant and foreign and exactly what Hermione needed to get her mind off . . . to relax.

She and Tom were situated in their pastel room, which had a veranda that looked out on a horizon, which twilight had painted purple and orange, the view obstructed only by the gorgeous Eiffel Tower. Tom was calling a restaurant and making dinner reservations for two, struggling with his French and shooting embarrassed smiles at Hermione, who was staring out the window quietly.

Moments later, Hermione felt a warm hand on her shoulder and smiled. "It is lovely," she muttered as accordion music drifted up through the French doors that lead onto the balcony.

"'Mione, would you like to dance?" Tom asked, and Hermione ignored the curious catch in his voice, standing and taking his hand instead. They swayed together to the soft music out on the terrace, where the light was slowly fading, and down below, streetlamps were popping on as passersby headed home.

--

"Where are you going?" Ginny interrogated.

"Why do you need a suitcase?" Harry grilled.

"Here, take Bugger," Ron ordered, handing his meowing kitten to Harry.

"Ron, where are you going?" Ginny repeated, looking at the feline with confusion.

Shoving on a dull muggle hat, Ron grinned. "Paris." And he grabbed his suitcase and apparated from the house.

Harry turned to Ginny, eyebrows raised. "Paris?"

Ginny beamed at him and turned to go into the sitting room. "Tom."

"_Tom_?" Harry scrambled after her, completely puzzled.

--

Ron arrived in an alley outside Tom and Hermione's hotel. Thankfully, the homeless man living in said passage was fast asleep and didn't notice him.

He strolled around to the front of the building, small suitcase in hand, and headed to the front desk. "I'd like to check in. Something on the third floor, please."

"Not a problem, monsieur," the clerk responded in thickly-accented English. "'Ow will you be paying?"

"Uh," Ron dug in his pocket for the banknotes Tom had given him before his and Hermione's departure. He found the bills and placed them on the counter. "This should cover it," he repeated the words Tom had told him.

The man raised his eyebrows and began counting the crumpled slips of paper, and, finding everything in order, handed Ron the keys to his room, wishing him a nice stay in Paris.

--

"Wait," Harry interrupted. "Tom is in love with Hermione?"

"Really, Harry, it's not that big of a surprise," Ginny declared.

"But I thought he--and you--Aren't you angry?"

"Why would I be angry?" Ginny asked incredulously. "It was never anything more than a passing fancy, on either side. I'm just glad Hermione has someone looking out for her best interests. It's obvious Tom set up this thing with Ron."

"If Tom loves Hermione, why would he help Ron?"

"Tom loves Hermione enough to let her go. Besides, he's handsome enough to fetch any girl he wants."

"So, you and he aren't--"

"We broke it off the night of his party," Ginny affirmed.

Harry set his jaw and seriously asked, "And how does that leave you?"

Ginny frowned. "How does it leave me?"

"What's your status?"

Ginny resisted a smile at Harry's backward manner of approaching the subject. "I'm single, Harry. Very, _very_ single . . . And how 'bout you? How does this whole situation leave you?"

"Single," Harry assured her, hesitantly meeting her eyes. "But, uh, hopefully not for long."

--

Ron set his bag down in his room, only just starting to feel a bit anxious about his goal in following Tom and Hermione here.

"Everything will be just fine," he assured himself, checking his appearance in the bathroom mirror. "She loves you. Her own best friend said so."

He straightened his shirt and ran a hand through his hair, smiling nervously before pocketing his keys and heading out the door.

Tom had informed Ron of the room Hermione had reserved, and, being on the third floor, it wasn't a long walk from his own. He reached the door swiftly and, after another brief pep talk, he dared to knock.

--

Tom heard the first knock, but Hermione didn't seem to notice. Her eyes were closed and her head was resting against his shoulder as she let herself be absorbed into the music.

The second knock was louder, and Hermione stepped back. "Who could that be?"

"Room service?" Tom suggested, ignoring the pain in his chest. "You should go see."

Hermione gave him a curious look before obeying. Tom exhaled heavily as she left the balcony, bracing himself against the railing and telling himself this was for the best.

Meanwhile, Hermione couldn't comprehend why room service would pay them a visit without having been called. She opened the door with a smile that faded quickly.

"Ron?"

--

"What do you mean?" Ginny asked tentatively, eyes alight.

"Ginny . . ." Harry took a breath and continued resolutely. "I've made so many mistakes. Ever since I let you go the first time, I've regretted it. I just--I wish we could go back . . ."

"We can," Ginny said softly. "We are, right this moment. You and me Harry. If you want . . . we . . . I mean, _I'm_ open to . . ."

Letting himself hope for the first time in years, Harry scooted nearer to Ginny on the loveseat, leaning in close. "I love you, Gin," he whispered before she closed the distance between them. The kiss was tender and spoke of more regret and of more completion than either of their words could ever do.

--

"What are you doing here?" Hermione asked, completely appalled that Ron had followed her to Paris.

"Well, uh, I realized I had forgotten to say goodbye, and, considering you might not come visit us again, I thought I ought to--"

"Right. Bye then," Hermione interrupted, now a little angry that Ron seemed to be just toying with her emotions, giving her some kind of optimism for their future, before destroying what little hope she had.

"Wait!" Ron exclaimed as she moved to close the door. At his word, she faltered, a good sign. "I realize that after my behavior this past week you probably want nothing to do with me, and I . . . I apologize."

Hermione raised her eyebrows. "All right." She gave him a nod, indicating he could carry on.

"But the truth is, I'm here because . . . I wanted to tell . . . I--"

"You wanted to wish me luck with Tom, correct? Because you've still got it in your head that he and I--"

"What?" Ron shook his head rapidly. "No. I came because your actions have given me reason to believe--"

"Ron--"

"Let me finish, Hermione!" Hermione pursed her lips and folded her arms. "Hermione, I can't tell you how hard it's been, ever since I met you. Even after I forgot _everything_ else, you were still--I could never forget you. You've always been . . . I've always . . ."

Hermione fought against the lump in her throat. "Ron--"

"Damn it, Hermione! I love you! Can't you see that?"

Hermione was caught off guard for only a moment before she regained her suspicion. "Did Tom put you up to this?"

"What? Being in love with you? No. You made sure of that yourself. Tom just told me where you would be and said . . . He gave me the assurance I needed to . . ."

"So . . . you . . ." The things Hermione had told herself were impossible came into view quite suddenly. "Oh, Ron!" She rushed forward, into his waiting arms, and he finally allowed himself to relax.

"There's a restaurant and a reservation for two, under the name Granger, so I'm told. We can talk there, if you want," Ron offered, pulling back to get a good look at her smiling face.

"But Tom--"

"Tom knows all about it," Ron assured her, embracing her again and pressing his lips to the top of her head.

--

Ron and Hermione were gone to the restaurant, happily together at last, and Tom was left alone in the hotel room, packing up his things and feeling not quite as empty as he had anticipated. By now, he was sure Ginny and Harry were engrossed in one another, and all was well in the world.

Tom smiled halfheartedly at the thought of the four magic folk having a good old time back at Grimmauld Place sometime in the future, one of the women perhaps with child, the two men jovially talking about stupid muggles and their stupid ways.

As he walked down the corridor to the elevator, he could imagine them all living long, happy lives, and he only regretted he would play little role in them.

He exited into the lobby and, soon, into the streets of Paris. Straightening his back and widening his stride, he searched for confidence. After all, he was still in the city of love; there was hope for him yet.

**A/N: And there you have it, an ending as corny as the story itself. I must say, I enjoyed writing this (perhaps because it's the end), in spite of how little I like the story anymore. Thanks for reading.**


End file.
